I'll admit up front that I have a blasted melancholy-type personality. I try to keep it shoved down, but sometimes it shoots up like a dandelion in the middle of a perfectly groomed yard. And here it is today. I haven't felt this weary in a while. But I'm weary. "Come to me all who are weary" weary.
Maybe it's because of my surgery and I'm tired of being limited during the recovery process.
Maybe it's because I've yet to find anything that I'm professionally competent at since I left my career and ministry in the church.
Maybe it's that I haven't allowed myself to find a church home. I've tried going to my old church, but I just feel too radioactive, too needy there, and I feel too wrapped up emotionally to be a part of the changes and struggles going on there now. But I miss the everyday casual friendships of church. I miss the church office comradery. I miss being needed, wanted.
Maybe I miss using my creativity. I've had to be creative for as long as I remember, now I just...am. I'm finding some release through writing. I've made a couple of silly YouTube videos which were really fun but embarrassingly stupid. Sadly I don't have the personality of a Mark Lowry. I'm a wanna be.
Maybe I miss music. I don't miss singing or performing or directing. But I miss the emotion, the feeling. I used to feel competent with music. (But I guess that depended on who you talked to.) I would love to be able to create lyrics and melodies, to musically emote this melancholy personality I've been cursed/blessed with. But who in the hell has time for that kind of time-consuming creativity with an active family and two yards to maintain and a job and too many TV shows to catch up on the DVR?
Maybe I'm weary because I've had to come to terms with the fact that I'm not the greatest husband and dad. In fact, I've sucked at it more often than not. After 50 years of living, one would think I would have a better grip on it. Be a better provider. A better lover. A better DIYer. Less lazy. Less fat.
My journey as of late has barely skirted the path that runs beside the bog and swamp. Yet who am I to complain? Some friends of mine are putting their little 7 month old daughter's body in the ground today. They have the right to be weary. I'm just a complainer when compared. I get it: in the grand scheme of life, I should be ashamed that I'm at a low point. I'm selfish. It's all about me and what I'm not getting or feeling or being given.
A lobotomy would be nice right now. But I don't think our insurance would cover it. And I think my wife would get a little pissed.
Today, I just need to find God in the weariness. See Him in the mourning of my friends at their baby's funeral. Acknowledge Him in the fragrance of our blooming wisteria vine. Look for Him in the wind with the floating dandelion seeds. Maybe I'm just supposed to be weary right now. Maybe Christ wants to use my weariness to cause me to turn to Him. Maybe He wants me to share my weariness for you, so that you can remember that you're not alone in your weariness.
Maybe.
“Come to Me , all of you who are weary and burdened , and I will give you rest. All of you, take up My yoke and learn from Me, because I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for yourselves. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light .”
