That was what I was going to call a recent blog. That day, I was weepy and terribly fragile. I had it all written up in my head but never sat down to write it. Why do we rarely admit when we’re feeling fragile and vulnerable? For me, more often than not, I just don’t want people to worry. Though there’s nearly always some level of pride involved in our reluctance to admit when we’re weak, for me, I was pretty sure that wasn’t the issue that day. I admit so much junk about myself, what’s a little weakness thrown in there, right?

Maybe, if I really do search out my motive in not posting it, it will somehow come back to pride. I have people who depend on me, so when I say I’m fragile or that maybe my faith is a bit shaky for a moment, then I fear it’ll cause them to feel shaky too. I s’pose that’s pride, fearing that their faith is in any way dependent on mine. Who do I think I am? Okay, so let’s go with pride. When I said I admit so much about myself that this was not a big deal, I know now I was wrong. It’s easier to admit the failures of our past, ones we appear to have overcome, than to admit our weaknesses of today, because in doing so, we are admitting we still don’t have it all together. News flash: I don’t have it all together.

It’s nothing more than pride that causes me to say, “I’m fine” when I’m really not. I was doing that week after week for quite some time. Truly, I was a volatile mess on the inside, yet I portrayed myself as being calm and collected on the outside. I was a candy-coated shell with a gooey mess inside. – I must be having sugar cravings since I’m picturing myself as an M&M. – For that season, though, because of pride, I was faking it, barely getting by.

For one thing, I was overcommitted, my reach extending into several areas, and I was losing my ability to keep up. I was stressed and pulled in too many different directions, and I knew without question that the Lord, and my protective husband, was calling me to step away from some things. I was taking care of many good things while ignoring some of the better things, those quieter things that needed my attention but didn’t loudly demand it.

Ultimately, though, I discovered that the reason I was such a mess was that I wasn’t trusting God in a particular area. I was focusing on the seen rather than the unseen, which led to my faith being shaken. The only way I found peace again was in trust. I had to come to a place of trust, a place where I remembered His love for me is perfect and that He will allow nothing into my life that is not first filtered through His love for me. So I sat with Jesus and said, “Okay, I don’t understand this, but I don’t have to. I feel You’ve said one thing yet I’m seeing just the opposite. Still, I trust You.” The very second I returned to a place of trust, my peace returned and the vulnerability and volatility I was feeling vanished.

Now, the phrase I’m walking away with is, love and trust go hand-in-hand. If I truly believe He loves me, then I can trust anything – everything – He allows into my life. I’m not sure what you may take away from this, but if nothing else, you see I’m real and I’m in process and I definitely don’t have it all together. But I trust Him to get me where I need to be.