More than surviving

That’s how I feel right now for the first time in far, far too long. And this is a screaming testament to God’s incredible grace, because this feeling of actually LIVING, of being both joyful and even happy, comes at a time when I really ought to be as exhausted as I’ve ever been.

My days at the moment consist of me getting up at 7:15am to make it to Focus on the Family by 8, where I spend all day until 4pm editing books, offering my two cents on potential curricula, and working on various other projects in the making. Then I go home long enough to change and breathe for a few minutes before clocking in at Texas Roadhouse at 5:00 for another 5 or 6 hours of taking orders, carrying trays, and hoping my ankle, which hasn’t quite healed yet, won’t give me any trouble. I’m still having issues with my stomach pain that keeps me awake at night, so I go about all this on less-than-adequate sleep.

Physically, I’m definitely tired. I have to fight to keep myself awake while I pore over my editing work.

But the other interns, all 22 of them, are such wonderful, amazing people — I live for lunch hour when most of us get to eat together, reuniting after being split up between all our different departments. Between that and the ever-growing feeling of God’s reassurance that I am finally headed in the direction He’s been preparing me for, I am, in every other sense, beginning to feel renewed.

His power is made perfect in my weakness.

On Monday when we had intern orientation and team-building, we were told to find an object somewhere at the park we were at that represented our relationship with God. I brought back a small rock, not because the rock itself struck me as representative of anything, but because of where I found it.

It was sitting on the edge of the lake, perfectly dry, just barely beyond the reach of the water lapping at the shore. Spiritually, I’ve been stuck for awhile in a period of monotony, apathy, confusion, I’m not sure exactly what to call it. But I had the feeling of being just out of reach, knowing that at any moment, God would remind me of whatever it is I’ve forgotten that keeps me feeling truly alive in Him. The water has been there, I knew that, but I’m just a stone, unable to move myself towards the water, and just an inch too far for the water to reach me.

But now, in the most unexpected way (God’s favorite approach, it seems, so that I have no doubt it’s His doing), the water has come.

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More than surviving

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