It was over a year ago that I wrote about a weariness that was so tangible it seemed to cling to me for weeks. I never thought I would sleep enough to finally feel rested. Thankfully, I did eventually come out of that surreal season of living mostly asleep. And I hold the lessons I learned from it close to my heart. Emotional and spiritual battles are just as exhausting as physical ones.
I did, however, make one mistake. I assumed I would not experience that debilitating fatigue again.
And perhaps I won’t.
But right now, I think I may be headed back to my bed.
It is incredible how quickly I experience pure exhaustion after a meeting with JCF’s staff. Or how soon I want nothing more than to crawl into bed when we get home from a visit with Asher. Or the inability to even think through preparing pasta for dinner after conversing with a therapist or counselor for one of my other children.
The whole thing drains me like nothing else ever has.
And the weird thing is that it comes in fits and spurts. For instance, staffings [That bizarre vocabulary we are now fluent in – staffing: a meeting with specific people set at regular intervals to discuss and ascertain the progress or regress of a particular patient. In our case, the list includes Asher, two of Asher’s peers in his rehabilitation program to corroborate anything Asher says, probation officer, social worker, primary rehabilitation staff worker, input from Asher’s core teacher, me and Joseph.] used to be fine but now they knock me out for the rest of the day.
As our journey through this difficult season stretches on and on, my reserves become depleted. Sometimes I wonder if this is a function of lack. I’m certainly not spending as much time in God’s word or meditating on His promises as I could. And, if not necessarily refreshed, I do have a better outlook after reminding myself of God’s goodness. But I also think it is simply a long, hard trek and what person feels more energetic at the end of climbing Everest than when they began?
Mostly, I am trusting this is another one of those supernatural realities ultimately designed to ensure I do not forget who is the Savior and who is not. When I am exhausted, Jesus must be present for my children. When I am asleep, Jesus must lavish grace on my family’s schedule and commitments. When I can’t make it out of bed, Jesus reminds me that snuggling under the covers is just as effective as shopping sprees and lunch dates with my children.
And I remember that my children need to see my finiteness – my inability – just as much as my strength and ability.