Thankful.

Today, I am thankful for so much.

For my husband. He loves me so well. He's not perfect - nobody is. And sometimes, I find myself irrationally angry with him. Sometimes, rationally angry. Sometimes I'm mean. Selfish. Unpleasant. And he loves me all the same. Being married to him, submitting to him, loving him... comes easy. And I am thankful.

For family. Not just "blood" family. But real family. Some of my family actually is related to me. Some of it isn't. A lot of it, actually. At least not in any earthly sense of the word.

For my church. This life is not an easy one to live. Nobody can go through life completely free of trial and pain. None of us are always right (well, I am, but nobody else is). None of us are always prepared for what happens. We all battle pride, dishonesty, selfishness. My husband and I have had our share of trials. Some, we've come out of triumphant. Some, not so much. And this is what I am getting at with this post.

We need other people. Sometimes, we need them to say "Yes, you are right." Sometimes, we need them to say, "No, you are most certainly mistaken." (By the way, I do know that I'm not really always right.) Sometimes, we need someone to look us in the eyes and say "Grow up." Yes, support is good. Necessary. Craved. But as I've been hearing so much lately, "God might just give you what you need, in a package you don't want."

Several weeks ago, I sat next to my husband in my Pastor's office. I was not sure what would happen. There is a battle I've been fighting for as long as I can remember. A battle that I'd given up on yet again. In my weariness, and isolation (self-imposed, mind you), I decided that for a while, maybe I could just get in line with my enemies. Maybe I could rest briefly, blending in with them and no longer trying to fight with anybody. There is a problem with that, though... if you put on the clothing the enemy wears, carry the weapons they use, say the things they say... you are in grave danger of becoming one of them.

Having done those things, having chosen to stop fighting just for a while... I slipped. I fell, hard. When my husband said it was time to go to our Pastor, time to let him help us, I was afraid. Ashamed. Uncertain. I knew he was right, but fear of what that help might entail made disobedience and unsubmission sound so very appealing.

I left the meeting not feeling any better at all. In fact, I felt worse. And as the day went on, tension mounted. I was wrestling with the question my Pastor asked me shortly before we left. "Jenn, when is it going to be enough? When are you going to be done? Where is the line?" When he asked, I felt like I should be saying, "Right now, sir. I am done. The line is drawn, and I'm not going to cross it." But that would have been only true on an emotional level. Deep down... I wasn't done.

To be very transparent... I still am having to fight, to remind myself every day, or every hour... sometimes every moment... that I am done.

But now... unlike every other time I've tried to be finished, I am being held accountable. Just today, we sat for the third time across the desk from someone who loves us. She (not my Pastor, but someone who works in the office) asked me questions I didn't really want to answer. There was plenty of pride-swallowing and a certain desire to stop talking.

But I was held accountable. And I've been shown that I am not walking through any of this alone or unnoticed. I am coming through, some of the dust is starting to settle.

And today... I'd like to ask you if there is something I can pray with and for you about? If so... please let me know. You can use the link over on the right side of this blog, or leave a comment. Comments are hidden until I approve them, and I certainly do not have to publish anything you want kept private. I would be honored to be given the privilege of praying, of caring... of reminding you that God, the Creator of all that is, loves you. Cares for you. Wants to help you. And He notices.