when my world is shaking

I'm a little embarrassed that it's been nearly a month since my last confession. Blog. My last blog. Weird.

It's midnight, and I'm sitting here unable to sleep before I write. The curse of being a writer is that not writing feels a lot like holding in a sneeze. And writing feels like taking a deep breath. Even if the words are just on a blog that tens of people read every month.

In short, life is chaos right now. I feel a little (or maybe completely is a better word) out of control. I'll be honest and say that's not the place I feel most comfortable. Or sane. I have recently settled into a place called "Wit's End," and life is very interesting here.

Have you ever looked up and asked God if He was joking? As if the thing(s) you face are a silly mistake? Or thought that maybe God got distracted by something and looked away for a second, allowing life a precious few moments to become a jumbled mess? I hope you're nodding; otherwise, I'll feel a little foolish when I say that I've done, said and thought those things. Often.

In late January, I posted this on Twitter: "Waiting for big news today. Reminded that trust is easy when things are going according to plan, but isn't fully refined until they aren't." While I got the news I was waiting (and hoping) for shortly after I posted this, I'm still in the same place. Learning the same lesson. I feel like I'm in a perpetual state of... wait. It's uncomfortable and chaotic and makes trusting that someone like God - who could just think and make my problems and worries disappear - has my best interest in mind.

The past 12 months have been some of the most unsettling and scary of my life for a lot of reasons. We have faced heart conditions, biopsies, lean budgets, a hard marriage and brothers in war zones. Life has shaken me this year. I don't say that to get pity or understanding. I say it so that what I'm about to say next will mean something.

I am not afraid of the shaking anymore. I'm not scared of the wondering and waiting. I'm learning to let go and rest in the fact that I have a future I may not know yet, but one that will be GOOD. It will be good because I am going to choose to live well and fully, even - and maybe especially - in the times that it's hardest to do so. And I have hope that even things like heart conditions, biopsies, lean budgets, a hard marriage and brothers in war zones are good for me. Not because they make me happy, but because they make me better.

This song by JJ Heller, called "Your Hands," has calmed my fears unlike anything else while walking through this year. It talks about the reality that life will shake us. This is guaranteed. But what's also guaranteed is that we won't be alone in the shaking. I've never felt more reassured.