Micro-tears

Life is interesting, isn't it?

You can be on top of the world, shouting from rooftops how awesome things are, and then FWAP!

Life's fly swatter smacks you like a bug.

I literally was telling people last week, ones I hadn't talked to in a while, how wonderful things were going, how happy I was, and finally felt at home here in Coastal NC.

That rug was ripped out from under my feet when our super healthy and active dog suddenly went blind in a matter of hours Saturday.

This is not the first abrupt, deeply impactful, negative event we've had to endure, by far. These last 4.5 years have had their fill of similar incidents - I thought my roster was full. NOT!

Seeing Austin go from a confident, independent and feisty dog to a compromised confused and clingy little thing has been heart wrenching.

I flash backed to watching my father's decline with Alzheimer's a number of times this weekend.

That's some heavy stuff I thought was long past me.

I have to be honest. I got angry with God. Saturday I was having "conversations" with Him I thought I'd never have again. Which I immediately felt terrible about. I had a hard time turning to him in those 24 hours with anything except anger.

That surprised me. Even when we first moved here and Austin got bit by the copperhead, I automatically put everything in God's hands. I had peace despite the fear.

But not this time.

It could be because there were other personal things going on. Nothing crazy or major, but things that required me to work to keep my head above water, and not fall into old habits or toxic mindsets.

And Austin, all 13 pounds of him, are my lifeline. He makes me laugh and feel loved every, single day. The thought of losing him ... I can't.

The work required to keep my head above water made me see parallels today between staying spiritually strong and staying physically strong. Especially since I went back to working out recently and have been experiencing those workout "pains." Yikes...

It seems that spiritually, as well as physically, when you work at getting and keeping muscles strong, you inevitably have pain.

You literally cause micro tears in muscle fibers to trigger inflammation which tells the body to repair and rebuild those muscle fibers so they can get stronger and larger.

Getting stronger requires damage. It's not easy. But it's necessary.

This is one of the hardest things about being a believer for many. It is hard to trust in God when things are unfair and painful, or when you simply don't have it in you to believe.

Frankly, it's exhausting. Not just for you, but also for those around you.

Because difficulties bring out the ugly pretty quick. You can get caught in the undertow of your strong emotions, especially when they are dark. You want redemption at any cost, even if it's destructive.

But that doesn't work. Even when you know it doesn't work, it's hard to keep from letting those strong waves pull you away from the shore.

In some ways I feel like I was seven different people in the course of forty-eight hours.

When we first realized Austin couldn't see, I went into strong-doer mode...get done immediately what had to be done.

Then I crumbled. Into pieces. On the couch. I couldn't be the one this time to take him and deal with the ER and all that goes along with it. I became overwhelmed-me.

Then I became the angry me. Then the deeply sad me.

Then I put a mask on yesterday, went out and tried to enjoy a few hours with friends, music and a gorgeous scenery. Attempted to camouflage myself.

When we got home, I was the angry and sad me again, then ended up in bed early and numb. The shutdown-me.

Then this morning, I knew I had to rise above all this. Austin is 12. Dogs don't live forever, even if you want them to with all your heart. Time to suck it up.

But I needed help. So, I blasted my contemporary Christian playlist -Anne Wilson's "Strong," Andrew Ripp's "Jericho," among others- and sang at the top of my lungs. I waited until AFTER I dropped Austin off though, cuz eek, I didn't want him to go deaf too.   

Letting the words about people's struggles and God's love sink in helped to bring back some much-needed light.

(Musical therapy is a real thing)

Then I went to adoration and sat with Jesus for a bit. It'd been a while.

My thoughts weren't organized, but He knows me, my circumstance, my mind and my heart.

And I know who He is.

Now I'm just regular old me again.

For now.

It takes work. Everything worth having takes work.

True peace doesn't just change your day; it changes your life by changing you.

Holding onto peace is worth every torn spiritual muscle and every bit of pain you endure to get there. The peace that surpasses is real. And it's worth the work.