This past week, something has been happening around 1:30 pm every day. Every muscle in my body begins to feel weak, my eyelids get heavy, and it becomes increasingly hard to continue to the end of the day. Today, it happened even earlier - around 10:30 this morning.
My heart is so tired lately. Some days, I wonder why I still try to teach. Some days, I wish I had a job where I went to work and someone told me exactly what to do and I could execute the instructions with little to no hindrance. I imagine days where I go to work and I don't have to diffuse situation after situation. I imagine a job where, at the end of the day, I check out and don't think about it again until I check back in the next morning. Where I don't feel like I'm constantly pouring from an empty bucket.
It's been a rough few weeks and I have a litany of complaints, of course; reasons and triggers that I won't get into because, after all, complaining never solved any problems. Last Saturday night, my dear friend invited me to a Nun and Nunner show (if you haven't seen them and you are Catholic, look them up now. They are amazing.) and on the way home, I stopped by my church and spent an hour in adoration. God knew I needed it, because even though I didn't have a key, I pulled up to the church just as the adorer for the hour before was leaving, and he let me in.
For those of you who aren't familiar, adoration is a Catholic practice where we sit for an hour, sometimes more, sometimes less, in the presence of the Eucharist. When I was going through my divorce, and for a few years afterward, this quiet place was the only refuge where I could feel any kind of peace. Some days, I would have to tear myself away; it was so still and beautiful, I could have lived for eternity just there, looking on Him who loves me as I am. Unfortunately, that's not where I'm called to live. Not yet.
Fast forward to Saturday night. As I sat and reflected, I thought about the dark place in my heart. We all have them, don't we? The thoughts and attitudes that we keep locked up, that we don't allow out to see the light of day. The little wicked wishes against our neighbors; those grudges we harbor against ourselves; the things we do in the privacy of our home that we would be horrified to let others know or see. I keep this room under lock and key, but lately the chains on the door have been shaking violently, those demons begging to be let out so they can claim dominion over me. In that moment, in adoration, while I prayed, I suddenly knew what to do; I gently pushed open that door. The darkness flooded out of me, but it couldn't take hold; instead it was scattered by the light in the chapel. It was scattered by the grace of Christ and I dissolved into tears of relief as peace settled again on my soul.
Tonight, I visited the chapel again, only for a few minutes this time, as my children waited for me at home. My patience is gone when I get to them at the end of the day. It's not fair to them. Not only do I lose my patience with them, but I also lose my ability to be consistent. I lose my willingness and ability to stand my ground and give them boundaries. So I let the presence of God fill me up for much too short of a time and for the remainder of the week, I will try to do better. In the times where I don't, I will try to mark the things I've done right instead of counting the things I've done wrong; and God willing, I will let the light scatter the darkness.
My heart is so tired lately. Some days, I wonder why I still try to teach. Some days, I wish I had a job where I went to work and someone told me exactly what to do and I could execute the instructions with little to no hindrance. I imagine days where I go to work and I don't have to diffuse situation after situation. I imagine a job where, at the end of the day, I check out and don't think about it again until I check back in the next morning. Where I don't feel like I'm constantly pouring from an empty bucket.
It's been a rough few weeks and I have a litany of complaints, of course; reasons and triggers that I won't get into because, after all, complaining never solved any problems. Last Saturday night, my dear friend invited me to a Nun and Nunner show (if you haven't seen them and you are Catholic, look them up now. They are amazing.) and on the way home, I stopped by my church and spent an hour in adoration. God knew I needed it, because even though I didn't have a key, I pulled up to the church just as the adorer for the hour before was leaving, and he let me in.
For those of you who aren't familiar, adoration is a Catholic practice where we sit for an hour, sometimes more, sometimes less, in the presence of the Eucharist. When I was going through my divorce, and for a few years afterward, this quiet place was the only refuge where I could feel any kind of peace. Some days, I would have to tear myself away; it was so still and beautiful, I could have lived for eternity just there, looking on Him who loves me as I am. Unfortunately, that's not where I'm called to live. Not yet.
Fast forward to Saturday night. As I sat and reflected, I thought about the dark place in my heart. We all have them, don't we? The thoughts and attitudes that we keep locked up, that we don't allow out to see the light of day. The little wicked wishes against our neighbors; those grudges we harbor against ourselves; the things we do in the privacy of our home that we would be horrified to let others know or see. I keep this room under lock and key, but lately the chains on the door have been shaking violently, those demons begging to be let out so they can claim dominion over me. In that moment, in adoration, while I prayed, I suddenly knew what to do; I gently pushed open that door. The darkness flooded out of me, but it couldn't take hold; instead it was scattered by the light in the chapel. It was scattered by the grace of Christ and I dissolved into tears of relief as peace settled again on my soul.
Tonight, I visited the chapel again, only for a few minutes this time, as my children waited for me at home. My patience is gone when I get to them at the end of the day. It's not fair to them. Not only do I lose my patience with them, but I also lose my ability to be consistent. I lose my willingness and ability to stand my ground and give them boundaries. So I let the presence of God fill me up for much too short of a time and for the remainder of the week, I will try to do better. In the times where I don't, I will try to mark the things I've done right instead of counting the things I've done wrong; and God willing, I will let the light scatter the darkness.
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