Wow. It’s been almost a month since I’ve written. I’ve not had much to say, not much in my mind and heart that bore writing down. A lot of discontent, whining, and self-pity in there, though. Perhaps writing would have helped me process more quickly, instead of wallowing. But anyway.
I’ve come to the conclusion that my loves are all disordered. I can’t properly love my husband or my kids, and I feel dissatisfied in my relationships with them, because I’m trying to get something out of those relationships which they were not meant to provide. I want complete fulfillment. I want assurance that I’m special. I want them to make me happy, perfectly happy, all the time. I want excitement, creative inspiration, and comfort. I want the big black hole of need in me to be filled, to stop sucking everything in and around me into it.
Surprisingly, my charming (haha!) toddler, adorable baby, and wonderful husband, are completely unable to do that for me. They aren’t made to.
My destructive black hole of need can only be met and fulfilled in Jesus. So I wait, I sit, I gripe, complain, and reach and long, all in vain insofar as I reach and grasp for anything and anyone other than him. My family is wonderful. My relationships are good. Music is beautiful. I just can’t be the person I was created to be, the one I long to be, simply by wringing the good out of them. I can’t. It won’t work. It doesn’t.
And perhaps, while I wait in this place, while I long for the love of all loves to be more real to me than all of these other good (or silly, or selfish, or downright ugly) things I use to try to satiate my ravenous need, perhaps it is his grace that is allowing me to feel the emptiness of this disordered life. The desperate discontent of the heart not fulfilled in him.
It is ugly, ugly. But Jesus is in the business of going deep in my heart, deeper than I feel particularly comfortable with, to name and root out one more layer of sin keeping me from him.
I keep thinking of this prayer I wrote in a journal. I wrote it almost a decade ago, but its desperation rings truer now than I even knew then.
p.s. all of this heart-ugliness discussed should not in any way insinuate that my toddler is not fun, my baby is not adorable, or my husband is not wonderful. they are that, and more! and i’m so thankful for them, for sunny yet blustery days, and for the way my house smells like the freshness of spring when i get to open my windows now. just so you know. it’s never all one thing. there’s good aplenty mixed in with the ugliness.