Sometimes I feel crazy. I suppose that’s not a very politically correct thing to say, but when I find myself cursing and crying within the same block, it seems to be the best adjective that comes to mind. I can almost picture myself rocking back and forth in a white, padded cell as I blubber to my husband about being unable to control my emotions.
“I don’t know why I’m so mad!” I had yelled, trying to explain why sometimes the little things set me off.
“I don’t have control of it,” I had cried! Salty, unexpected tears cascading down my face.
I sit presently on the couch with a cup of hot coffee, looking out the window at the rain.
“I make all things new.”
I think about those words that the Lord spoke to my spirit as I watch dark drops of rainwater slide down my windowpane. Everyone in my house is asleep, and I spend the quiet time reflecting on life. I feel good this morning. The calming current of contentment that carries me along this morning is in sharp contrast to my outburst yesterday. The one described above. The one where I got angry over minuscule inconveniences and burst into tears for little reason at all. The one where I felt crazy. Who was that woman anyway?
After my third childbirth, third marathon trek of breastfeeding, and entry into my fourth decade of life everything started to unravel at the seams. That’s how it felt anyway. I was in that difficult season of life. I wasn’t going through “the change,” per se, but the rollercoaster of hormone drops and surges as my reproductive body geared down was enough to send anyone into the closet to collapse and cry. Surely that was the culprit, right? I suppose I needed to label it. To have a reason. Then maybe I could control it.
As I watch the rain drip drop from the sky, cradled into the awaiting leaves, and finally falling onto the damp dirt underneath I think about my desire for control. I suppose that is the hardest part of it all; my inability to control my out of control emotions. Small concerns cause me great anxiety, worry that overwhelms the actuality of the situation. Major upset over things that don’t really matter. Mountainous anger over molehill battles. I have become the queen of overreaction. And even as my outside-self reacts my inner-self screams mutely, “calm down, Brie.”
“It’s in your weakness where my strength is displayed best.”
The truth of God’s word always gives me peace. I am in a time of my life where I am struggling with my emotions. My mood is often ruled by my out of whack emotions. This is simply another opportunity for me to fall on Jesus. I am certainly weak, and He is certainly strong. I can’t always control the situation, but He has all control.
The rain continues to come down, the daytime sky outside my window remains dim and dull, but my coffee is hot, my heart full of hope. The rain washes away yesterday, and I remember the truth.
“I make all things new.”
