Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Yellow and Red
When we discovered a new-to-us sub joint with bottles of malt vinegar on the tables for the hand-cut fries, things were looking up. But when we found ourselves at Wal Mart to do last-minute Christmas shopping after dark, the evening took on a decidedly bleak tune.
Can you imagine a better way to suck the soul out of art? The fear that maybe it won't be perfect?
I promise you: it won't be perfect.
But as much as I kept reminding myself of the truth, it didn't sink in until Silas came down with one of the scariest kid-illnesses in the history of my motherhood, three days before my deadline.
He's fine now, and it whipped my priorities into shape - but quick.
Maybe it's the exhaustion I'm feeling. Or the sensation of having all of my emotions siphoned out through my fingertips. Maybe it's the two guys staying in the basement for a while who simultaneously fill me up and make me tired.
Maybe it's the fact that I feel extra-needed right now, when what I really want is a maid. I want to stop waking up the next morning realizing I was too spent to tell Cory really important things that had happened the day before, or even two.
Christmas is hard this year.
It's bright and warm and it is so, so sad. I fight back the temptation, just like always, to huddle up and pretend the problems banging on my door are not my own. I say I want a simpler way, pretending Jesus came to bring joy and forgetting that he also came to suffer life with us.
We get to taste all of it, with him at our table, along with whoever else happens to stop by.
It was fun until it wasn't, and as we (finally) escaped and drove away, Silas said, quietly, "My heart feels yellow. Yellow means lonely."
But do we have the guts to admit it's also kind of yellowish? Can we possibly bear all three?
His law is love and his gospel is peace.
He knew we'd spend part of life swimming in sadness and at war.
He didn't wave a wand and spirit it all away from afar. He came to bear it alongside us, and ultimately, to conquer it.
I wrote a post today over at (in)courage, sort of a manifesto for all our happy/sad, battered hearts. I hope it brings you comfort, somehow. I hope you'll pass it along to someone who might need the reminder that they aren't a misfit or a weirdo, they're just a little yellow, along with Silas and the rest of us.