Foreboding Feelings--AKA Raindrops and Weeds

I must admit that I've been "low" for quite some time. Really since November I haven't felt well spiritually, mentally, physically, or emotionally for very long at a time. I try to post the ups and keep the downs to a minimum--just enough downs to let ya'll know I'm real but (I hope) not enough to keep people at a distance. Yet distanced is how I feel even around so many familiar people in my life. I still long for a mentor, still long for a couple to have meaningful, unstructured, unhurried, unpretentious times with.

Here's how I feel:



Physically-

My feet hurt all the time. From the time I get up till I fall asleep at night, they ache. I think my arches have fallen and they can't get up. I'm making an appt w/ a podiatrist this week. My mind can always get more done than my feet will endure.



Emotionally-
I am not superstitious and I think I'm usually optimistic, but I have this terrible, awful feeling that I'm going to lose someone close to me very soon. I hate this feeling. Hate it! I know it's just a feeling and you shouldn't trust feelings, but I haven't been able to shake it. Every time I see I see my parents I wonder if this will be the last time. I got that feeling the last time I hugged my Grandpa. He wasn't even sick, but a month later he had a massive heart attack and died a short time later at the hospital. I get anxious about my kids being out late at night. I check on Paul's whereabouts too frequently. I've never considered myself a worrier, and it's a sin and I hate being around worriers (they're high maintenance and I fear being that way). I'd just rather spend my prayers on stuff besides, "God, protect so and so, and Father, give me peace and forgive my worry". Such prayers don't wear Him out, but they wear me out!



Spiritually-
I've been in a desert for longer than I've ever been in one. It takes everything in me to read my Bible, and when I do, I get little out of it. Church is either dry to me or I walk in and want to weep all over myself. Today I was disappointed by hearing what we missed last week (when we were in Ohio). Apparently a lot of people had come forward to share testimonies of how God has been moving in their lives--healings, reconciled relationships, deliverance of bad habits--I've been waiting months and months to hear from the people like this because it is so, so , so encouraging. I'm not talking a single testimony, but a host of them! I LOVE that, and I missed it!
Lately it's been taking enormous effort to focus, in church especially. I'm very easily distracted--by cute babies, by people talking, by what people are wearing (15 out of 20 are wearing tan pants today), by typos on the overhead (I cringe or laugh, depending on the error), by sour notes from the musicians. Sometimes I want to move all the way up front so no one distracts me, but when your husband and kids are six feet tall and your six year old's idea of participating in worship means drumming on the seat ahead of him, and you yourself cry like a fountain and laugh like a hyena,, you don't do anyone favors by opting for front row seats. Besides, if I were that close to the amps, I'd be on sensory overload.



Mentally-
I am usually pretty decisive. Lately I've wanted all decisions made for me. It's been hard for me in co-op to plan lessons to fit the kindergarten, first and second graders, all of whom have different motor skills and attention spans. This past Thursday I had the 2nd graders sketch their feet, the first graders draw the sketch I had done of my own feet, and--as the kindergarteners were walking in on their feet (thankfully, not on their hands as some are tempted) I was scrambling in my mind. "Lord, what do I do with these kids? The feet thing is way beyond them." He kindly and quickly showed me to scrap the feet project and just work on sketching techniques and the always needed : following instructions. I was literally praying for step-by-step instructions from God as I taught the lesson I had not had the mental capacity to prepare for. And sinfully comparing myself to Marie J who is so good with that age group. Kathy W told me the next day that Ruthie had gone into great detail about her sketch turned out (which really uplifted my downcast Teacher Heart): "Miss Zoanna said use short, soft strokes, and we did and we made trees that were narrow at the top and wide at the bottom, and we drew a path, and weeds, and clouds and...."

--------------

Perhaps I'm under God's discipline.
Perhaps I need to go back on medication.
Perhaps I'm too self-focused.
Perhaps I need more of a social life.
Perhaps I should slash the jugular of the cultural mantra that tells me I should be happy all the time or something's wrong with me. I say I don't believe that, but I function as if I do.

Any thoughts? Rebukes? Encouragements?