BATTLEFIELD

FullSizeRender-2.jpg

Today is going to be a battle.

I woke up with the headache from last night still lingering. The sleep I got I can already tell was not enough. I can’t even have the luxury of a good, strong cup of coffee because it would give me major heartburn for the rest of the day.

I lay in bed, eyes still closed thinking of all the things I needed to do today and hadn’t done yesterday and somehow, before my feet have even hit the floor,  Satan has convinced me I’ve already failed. Then my husband that always wakes up on the right side of the bed is whispering in my ear that he would love an omelet (his love language). I haven’t even unpacked the groceries that don’t need refrigerating from yesterday yet! Is he really asking me to make breakfast in the mass of plastic bags on the counter containing boxes of cereal that he could be eating instead?

So yes. Today is going to be a battle.

And I, weary, must pick up my armor and weaponry and fight. Against everything in me and all the lies Satan is trying to fling my way. Who wants me to consider this day already a fail, a bad day, a  total wash before my feet have even hit the floor. How dare him!

I don’t want to snap at my husband. I don’t want to look at my household tasks with defeat. I don’t want to be angry that I have an apartment with two bathrooms to clean.

Today I fight, against all the power that is trying to push me to be cranky, angry, ungrateful, and snappy. I refuse to listen to lies of condemnation and deceit. Lies of how unappreciated I am, how unworthy I am, how undeserving I am, how my life has no purpose, how miserable today is going to be, and how I’m going to drown in all of this laundry and dishes.

Today I beg for my Savior to release me from what I consider an oppressive reality-just to find I’m the one who is keeping myself in chains. Those chains aren’t even attached to the wall and I’ve been looking at the key across the room all this time. Because I don’t have to live like this. I don’t have to accept this nasty, defeated, failure, miserable version of myself.

My Savior shakes my dusty chains to prove they aren't attached to the wall and grabs my hands to stand and says, “Come on, we will walk over there to get the key together."  Yes, he’s my Savior but I have to do some work. And so I stand up, ready to fight today. I fight with the only weapons I know how. The ones that make Satan surrender over and over again.

I whisper out a whimpery, "Help." to a Father God I know can hear. I beg His Spirit to lovingly envelope me so tight I can feel Him. I read out loud Psalms of how my Father God has/can/will obliterate my enemy.

My arrows are pointed with thankfulness. Nothing scares of Satan more than me being thankful. He doesn’t want me to see any good in today. He doesn’t want me to be thankful for my God, my life, my comfy bed, ibuprofen, cold water rushing down my throat, the abundance of premade food I am able to purchase so I don’t have to cook, the sensory of smell so I can at least get a deep whiff of that coffee, the warmth of Bob's hug, the birds that are singing, the palm trees that are swaying with the slight breeze today, waking up to blue skies that are as deep blue as Bob’s eyes, picture texts of my sweet friends far away drinking coffee for me,  the power of bleach as I redeem tubs of soap scum, the warmth and crispness of fresh sheets from the dryer, or the verses painstakingly written by my sweet Nana who always struggled with her English and whom I miss so much it puts a lump in my throat...

Today I believe that I AM NOT A FAILURE.

That I AM NOT FORGOTTEN.

That today has PURPOSE.

That God knows what He is doing and I am SEEN,

                                                                          HEARD,

                                                                           LOVED.

That I don’t have the right to condemn myself a failure before I’ve even fully woke up. That I don’t get the self righteousness of somehow believing this is Bobby’s fault when I know he’s innocent.

I’m choosing who I’m listening to. No longer the lies of Satan, convincing me of my miserable life in chains. 

So today I fight. For sanity. For a good day. For thankfulness. For not taking things out on my loved ones. For joy. For realizing the strength and nearness of my Father God. For listening to His voice. For soap scum to be scrubbed off with praise and coffee smells to linger.