The Noise, Noise, Noise, Noise

I don't know if this blog adequately portrays my life.  I paint pictures of sunshine and roses, but there are some big, dark, cumulonimbus clouds and painful thorns as well.

I try, very hard, to find the treasures in the little things, in each of my kids' personalities, in their successes, in the lessons from our failures.  But, sometimes, things just aren't okay.

I don't know if it's an early-onset of seasonal affective disorder, or what, but I have been cranky lately.  I'm extra snippy, overly sensitive, and easily provoked.  For those of you who have been wondering, Anger is my de facto ruling emotion of late.

Some days just aren't okay.

I feel a little overwhelmed.  Not just by the normal managing-the-household, homeschooling duties, but from a run-of-the-mill life perspective.  ALL OF THE THINGS are stressing me out.  I want to fix everything.  I feel helpless to do anything.  I don't know how to feel or think about most things.  I spend too much time reading the opinions of others and weighing them against my own thoughts and feelings.  "Is that what I think?" I wonder.  "That doesn't seem right."

I think this is my natural tendency as an introvert.  I pool all of my resources and try to figure life out inside my already crowded brain.  And it's not crowded with important stuff.  It's crowded with things like the random location I saw Noah tuck Abby's Bible Quizzing book and how many and what kind of donuts each child likes and an internal debate about whether or not I can actually go the alleged 60 miles to empty it reads on my gas gauge.  And don't forget to move the wet clothes to the dryer.  Then actually start the dryer. When you add the NON-STOP opinions of a world that freely gives their opinions to that mess, it's utter chaos.

It's when I turn into the Grinch.  All the noise. Oh the noise.

I think this is why I'm broken. There's too much noise. I'm spending so much time reading and considering the words of others that I'm neglecting spending any time reading and considering the Word. I'm seeing the world through my feelings when I know full well the heart is deceitful above all things. I'm hoping to fix things and control things with my own feeble abilities instead of trusting in God, that same one who, you know, created the entire universe.

When I look around, I see nothing but mayhem.  When I look to God, I find peace and comfort.  Why do I bother with anything else?  Because I'm human.  It's what we do.

Maybe not a great thing to admit, but I'm adopting the prayer of the father of the epileptic boy.
"I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!"
It's my own lack of trust that prevents me from experiencing the fullness of a life with Jesus.  But I think that I might be on to something.  I'm done with the noise.  If you need me, I'll be listening for that still, small voice.

(But seriously, if you need me, call/text/email/stop by/send me a letter.  I'm still here for you.  Even if I seem crazy.)
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