Halfway

Today is my half birthday. So. What. Jinx. I know you thought it. Be honest. But yea, so what? A half birthday is essentially meaningless. I used to joke that you should get a half-hearted party on that day. I was cracking dad jokes at 16. No, I wasn’t a dad then in case you’re wondering. This year, though, I’m feeling introspective. See this half birthday falls in the middle of the night.

I find myself in a storm. A winter gale. A summer storm with flash flood warnings. The tornado that took Dorothy away. The wind that that witch Poppins used to sweep away the other, far more qualified and far less evil nannies. This storm is a monster. It hasn’t relented for 15 months. Until then my life was relatively calm. Not too much drama. Not too much pain. But this storm? It consists solely of heartache and despair. It’s a storm full of life altering events. I’ve lived through my two worst nightmares in the last 15 months. I’ve had things happen to me that I truly never believed would or could. My world has been rocked and the house I built has collapsed upon itself, now a pile of rubble and ruin. Nothing is the same. And I am stronger now than I ever was.

I am in the middle of the fight. The middle of the traumatic season. I don’t really see a light at the end of the tunnel. But I’m telling you as I stand here that God is good. My circumstances suck. I’ve prayed and worked to change them for months. They haven’t. I haven’t gotten anything I’ve wanted in 15 months. Very little that can be called ‘good’ has happened to me or for me. I’ve cried more than I ever have. I’ve woken up and honestly not known how I would get through the day. I lived like that for months and months before I got to a place where I was able to live daily without thinking of quitting. And then another gust hit me. More months of pain and tears and hurt. This time for multiple reasons. I begged God to change it. I cried to Him to snap His fingers like Tony Stark and make things right. Didn’t happen. They’re still not right. They may never be. And I’m here in the midst of it all. Standing tall.

I’m standing tall because I know God is with me. The storm is raging. I can’t see my own hands. But God keeps letting me know that He’s right with me. I’d rather be with Him in a storm than alone on a San Diego beach. See God hasn’t calmed the storm yet. Instead, He’s calmed me. He’s changed my perspective. He’s shown me strength I didn’t know I had. He’s shown me what it means to be truly connected to Him. He’s changing me.

My friend sent me a sermon he’d listened to. In it, the pastor reminded us to not get so caught up in the pain of the situation that we miss the lessons and the growth we can gain from it. Of course situations are different. Sometimes the pain is so overwhelming that simply breathing takes all of your energy. But eventually it goes from a tidal wave of red to a throbbing sensation that, while ever present, becomes something you live with. And that’s where the growth can come. Growth is never comfortable. Muscles only grow when pushed and stretched to new capacities. We learn by placing new information into our brains and pushing ourselves to retain it. Kids’ bones ache as they gain height. I could go on. My circumstances have been terrible. They’ve been tragic. But that same tragedy that tore my heart apart and threatened to rip my soul to shreds pushed me off of my perch and forced me to flap my wings or fall.

This life has tried to kill me. It has tried to take my spirit, my peace and my joy. It has thrown more at me than I knew was possible. I lost those I relied on the most. Guess what? That meant I had to get my priorities straight. My reliance couldn’t be on people. Every person in your life is a moment away from leaving this earth. Every person you’re in relationship with is a situation away from chucking you the deuces. The only one you can rely on wholeheartedly is God. And if you rely on God, you can rely on yourself. Don’t misunderstand me, now. This isn’t some ‘screw the world, all I got is me’ rant. We need each other. We just can’t build our worlds on each other. Those are sandy shores. God is the rock. That’s the only foundation that doesn’t falter in those storms. It took me 37 years to learn that. It took me losing more than I ever thought possible to learn that. It took gallons of tears and enough heartache to empty out the Tums warehouse to learn that. Now I don’t believe for a second that God allowed those losses simply to teach me these lessons. I hope I would’ve learned them either way. Maybe this just sped up the process. I don’t know. But I do know that my pain and my discomfort pushed me to find my true center. So here, on my half birthday, I’m still surrounded by rain clouds. I still can’t see land. But despite it, I am still. I am confident. I am strong. This life has taken more from me than I had to give. But it hasn’t taken me yet. And it won’t. I’m not alone.