Have you ever said something and then had your own words directed right back at you? It stings. It happened to me today. Today it didn't sting the way it does when someone else directs your words back at you. It stings the way it does when the voice in your head reminds you of what you'd rather forget.
It started yesterday with bad news. Andy and I have been going over our budget because we're having trouble making ends meet with my tiny part-time job. So when Andy told me I needed to start working three days a week instead of two, I wasn't surprised. I also wasn't happy about it. In fact, I wallowed in my own self-pity for a good portion of the day, crying about it, missing Sophia already, holding on tight each time I held her. This morning I woke up and continued my pity party for one. Throughout the day these were the thoughts running through my head:
Her teachers are going to be raising her three out of five days a week. Her teachers will put her down for a nap, put her shoes on and off, comfort her when she gets hurt, feed her lunch, change her diaper. They'll have three days, you'll only have two. You're not really a stay-at-home-mom anymore. Sophia will learn she doesn't need you after all.
...and on and on. NOT healthy. Not even all true...notice how the weekend somehow doesn't count. Then there's the practicality problems:
How will she handle two days in a row at school when she doesn't nap here? This is going to ruin our schedule completely. How will I get everything with our house done when I'm only home two days a week? I'm going to miss her so much!
Until the voice turned into a repetitive desperate rant:
I can't work Thursdays! I need to be home with Sophia! I can't work Thursdays! I need to be home with Sophia!
But I knew the decision had already been made. Andy wouldn't have asked me to work three days a week if it wasn't absolutely necessary. I talked to my director and within a few minutes it was done. Defeat and depression made a home in my heart.
I'm on Twitter. Paul Tripp tweets three things a day in the morning, and God has used Paul Tripp's tweets regularly to do a few things: reveal my heart, reprimand the intentions of my heart, and remind my heart of the gospel. Some days those tweets speak directly to what I'm going through. Today was one of those days. His three tweets read:
You and I don't have the ability to define our needs. We get needs and wants confused. God both clearly defines and faithfully meets them.
You can't live to meet all your needs and live to serve Christ at the same time. Live as his disciple, he's got your true needs covered.
If you put too many things in your need category you will end up frustrated with life, hurt by others, and doubting God's goodness.
I had gotten my needs and wants confused. I don't need to be home with Sophia. I want to be with her. Yes, I want to be with her so badly every day. But wanting it as badly and I can doesn't change it into a need. It's still a want. God is committed to give me all that I need. He has no commitment whatsoever to give me all that I want. (Another Paul Tripp tweet from a week ago).
It was then that my own words came back to haunt me. I recently wrote a blog post about my teaching career and how God had put me there, and despite the hardships it brought, I ought to have lived each day knowing it was in God's will for me to be there, to be at peace there, and to be spreading the light of the gospel of Jesus with gladness in my heart. But I didn't do that and I regret it. Here are my own words from that post which spoke so piercingly to my own heart today:
So wherever God has you, whatever God has you doing, remember that the tiny voice in your head that says I can't do this...is right. You can't do it. Seek God's grace so that you can do with God what you can't do on your own. You won't want to look back on the years you wasted wondering what all could have been accomplished if only you had trusted and obeyed.
It's weird to quote myself on my blog, but these are the words I'm eating today. They are my words. They taste bitter and sweet at the same time. They are like salt on my still wounded heart. But they also bring with them hope that I can do this second time around what I didn't do the first time: trust God and obey Him joyfully. He promises to meet my needs. I believe! Forgive my unbelief!
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