{A Time to Speak}

There are times when I have nothing to say. Not because there's nothing on my mind, but because I'm too overwhelmed by the weight of it all. So I don't write. (Or, when I do, it's a glib little anecdote that barely passes as a tolerable read.)

But if I could speak, these would be my honest words:


My kids have been bickering. For weeks. I'm tired.

We haven't had a "normal" school day for . . . I'm not sure how long.

I haven't been able to motivate myself to follow my exercise routine.

It's become a habit to ignore the alarm in the morning.

The meal planning? Not going so well.

And, of course, the laundry. (Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.)


My honest words. So why do I feel as though I can't speak? Because I don't have the answers. I'm out of "bickering kid" solutions. I'm not sure how to liven up the school day. (Instead I've considered enrolling them a number of times.) The exercising, the nutritious meals, the eight hours of sleep. It's all lacking. And I don't have any answers.

You see, I'm the kind of girl who likes to have the answers. I like to offer solutions to peoples' problems. I like to put in my two cents' worth pretty much whenever I have the opportunity.

And I can't do that right now. Because I can't even handle a shrieking six-year-old. (Although can anyone, really?)

But what if -- now humor me for a moment -- what if this is actually a good time to speak?

A time to speak and let you know that I don't have all the answers. A time to speak and let you know that you're not the only one who struggles. A time to speak and let you know that it's okay to feel like you don't have it all together.

Because no one really has it all together. At least, not on their own strength.

Which is why I'm so very grateful that I can speak with certainty on this point:

I'm surrounded by grace, and I'm filled with hope.

Because I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that God is good. I know that He'll faithfully redeem these "lost days," just as He's done many times before. And that's definitely something worth speaking about.

Like a crocus in the snow
I stand, knee-deep in winter
Holding springtime in my heart.

Joan Walsh Anglund

Woman Writing at a Table by Thomas Anchutz