the true story

by Alanna

I don't know that I generally like to write on my dark days. I guess I'd call this one of them, although it started out pretty well. Happy, but with dark lurking at the corners of my mind. Whispering the inevitability of it. I'd had so many happy days in a row, where I felt sane and well and excited to do life. I guess my mind felt I deserved a bad one. Of course I know, deep down, it doesn't work that way. Joy begets joy, not sorrow. Maybe I just didn't fight it the way I should have this morning. Maybe I didn't fight it at all. I've been doing all the right things. Lots of Vitamin D, exercising, the sun lamp, time in the Bible, praying, having people over.  But truth is, sometimes all the right things happen and I still find myself standing in the kitchen staring blankly at the countertops. Because the truth is, we have so much less power than we think we do over our own stories. Not in a fatalistic sort of way. I believe in the fight. Just in a trusting that God knows best kind of way. Taking deep breaths when it feels hard to breathe. Whispering thanks to Him. Choosing good, but acknowledging too the brokenness of this world. The brokenness of me. It didn't help that I failed as a mom today, in so many ways. The feelings I have when I yell at my kids or treat them meanly, they are not conducive to climbing out of the pit. But thank God I have a Savior. There's this Ginny Owens song that's been running through my head tonight. True Story. That God knows all of our mess ups, sees behind every mask. He does truly know the ugliness in me. More than even my kids, more than my spouse. Those I sin against the most.  And He knows the good He created in me too. Even when I can't see it. Jesus took responsibility and the blame for all of my failures. And so He loves me. My Father loves me. Tonight, no matter how my heart feels, my soul will tell my mind to rest. To sleep in peace and not to cry too long. Because my soul is well. And His mercies are new every morning.