My Wrestling Place

I recently took a bit of a respite trip to a magical place where peace is woven in and out of the fibers of the walls. Where God resides in the hearts of all who enter, and where I rediscovered my life-giving gifts from our Father Almighty. Thank you for letting me reflect on those days in this space.

I'm not where I thought I would be.

Mother? Yes.

Wife? Yes.

Friend? Daughter? Neighbor? Yes. All of those things.

What I didn't expect was this floundering of my soul; this anticipation of being great, or accomplishing something amazing, and then waking up every morning to find that the earth hasn't shattered because of the accomplishments in my life. I didn't change the world today. Nobody noticed my completed tasks. Each morning the sun comes up, and I find myself on repeat. Nothing changed. Same routine.

And that's the problem: my childhood perceptions of what my life should be are so far from where I have ended up. It's not necessarily that I had some grand vision of what it would look like, but rather, what it would feel like.

Kristin Kuda. Mid-life crisis at the age of 34.

It comes down to feeling so small and insignificant in this world -- a world filled with evil and pain and heartache -- that I have such a hard time recognizing my worth. The enormity of these things take over, and those roles as mother, wife, friend, daughter? Well, they just don't seem as big...

Because the hillside I'm overlooking is grand, and the thunder of pouring rain consumes my every thought.  Our Holy Father is revealed in every living and breathing thing around me, and my enemy sneaks into the ripples of water coursing down the roof as he whispers, "You'll never be as significant as these things."

I believe him, because the monotony of my life feels like nothing close to the glorious sound of rain and birds and earth surrounding me. And right before I am wholly consumed by it all -- the nothingness and monotony and the insignificance -- a breeze blows from the West and I hear His call:

Peace be with you.
Peace be with you.

He says it twice because I didn't believe it the first time. He says it twice because I am but flesh and bone and broken and sinful. I believed the enemy when he told me I didn't matter, and I believed the enemy when he said my purpose wasn't God-breathed. And I believed him when he told me my soul was impure and would never truly be forgiven.

But, God.

But God is faithful and just and will forgive our sins and cleanse us from every wrong doing. (1 John 1:8-9)

But, God.

But God has made a covenant with us and has put His laws in our hearts, and has written them in our minds. (Heb 10:15-16)

But, God.

But God has given me a Spirit not of timidity, but of power, and of love, and of self-discipline. (2 Tim 1:7)

So, instead of feeling small, and unworthy and insignificant in this large, all consuming world, I will cling to the prayer Paul blessed upon us:

...that your love may increase ever more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, to discern what is of value, so that you may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes to you through Jesus Christ, for the glory and praise of God. (Phil 1:9-11)

Faith is a confidence in God that persists, even when the questions remain unanswered.

Faith trusts God even when circumstances seem to contradict His promises.

Faith rests firmly on the knowledge that God is faithful and His promises are True. God asks only for our obedience and faithfulness to assure our usefulness in our own period of history. In this, He gives us freedom to act on our life-giving gifts, freedom to see the beauty in the mundane, freedom to live our lives fully, regardless of our preconceived notions and idyllic plans.

I see now: the beauty of it all, the power of normal, and the beauty in routine.

xoxo, K.

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