Well, here it is – another beautiful, ugly transitional time in my life. Am I being punked? It’s like I pulled up to the drive-thru window of life and ordered a #2 with a side of instability and mind-numbing fear. And super-size it, please. I wanna make sure I’m really good and full on all this upheaval I’m about to consume. Please don’t leave me wanting. Thanks so much. Lucky for me they put in an extra order of uncertainty and anxiety for the win. YES!!! Thanks, Lord.

Fear and anxiety. Don’t you just love when those two come-a-knocking. They always visit together. They’re sweet like that.

But let me just tell you, the Lord is so kind and good. The truth is that lately, I have been experiencing a sweet season. And I mean, finally!! Good grief, Lord! It’s about time! Most of my transitional times consist of  me stepping off into a big pile of dog crap. I’m just keeping it real.This season is rainbows and butterflies if I’m comparing.

But then there it is. That thing that holds me hostage. Fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the forward movement and the things I can’t control.

Isn’t it funny how the Lord can lay the most beautiful thing in front of us, but we just don’t know how to embrace it. Maybe it’s just me…
I’m finding that, sadly, I don’t always know how to enjoy life, even in the sweet spot.
Enjoy life… ? What is that, even?
Is that allowed?
How do I do that? Can I love life and be a single mom?
Can I relax?
Can I let go of the control?
Can I just…gulp…be?

I can’t, God. I don’t know how. I need to be needed and I need to hold the reins and have the answers. I must be a co-dependent and a martyr. Yes, that’s it! I am a martyr. I am forever a martyr and a victim of circumstance and I have to be forever responsible for everyone and everything and all of life, and I cannot take a break from being all the things to all the people. I cannot enjoy life. Count me out.

I’m exhausted just typing that.
But it’s how I’ve lived for as long as I can remember. And it’s too much for one person to carry.

Here’s what I’m learning in this season of life. I don’t know how to give myself permission to mentally unwind and drop the guard and the fear. Sometimes ! just don’t know how to let Jesus lighten my load. I don’t know how to relax. I don’t know how to just be.
There. I said it.
I carry the junk from the old season straight on into the new.
I carry that backpack full of weight and co-dependency and control and anxiety. And why? It’s not even required!!
And now that I can see the wide-open space to drop that sucker and run free I stand by the fence and hold it tight like it’s the last donut hole I’ll ever get to eat. (Also, why am I constantly comparing everything to food? So disturbing.)

I watch everybody else enjoy life and I stand to the side because I feel undeserving or I feel the responsibility of the thing – whatever it is. I crawl up on that cross day after day and crucify myself and try to do a job that’s already been done.

See, I’m not a victim and I’m not a martyr, but I sure do act like one. I get up on that cross and sacrifice everything I’ve got because it’s what I’ve always done. I act like everything will fall apart if I don’t have all the answers. And when that self-inflicted weight gets too heavy to carry I fall apart.
I forget how to enjoy life. I forget to see the beauty that’s right in front of my face sometimes. I forget that I don’t have to have all the answers and all the control. It’s ok to say, “You know what, I don’t know what’s coming next, but God does. And that enough.”

I see transition, but he sees promise.
I see fear of the unknown. He sees fun and excitement.
I see difficulty. He sees another opportunity to show me His faithfulness. 

Sometimes we have to just drop the backpack and run the field.

I’m learning.

Stop.
Enjoy life.
Go play.

If we don’t, we might be missing the greatest game ever.
I don’t wanna miss the fun, y’all.
I wanna walk in the joy and the goodness and run in the freedom that comes with trusting God.
We belong to Jesus. We don’t have all the answers but He does.
So drop your backpack, finish your donut hole and go enjoy life.
Relax.
Trust.
And for goodness’ sake, get down off that cross.
Somebody needs the wood.