I arrived home exhausted today. Like I’d run a marathon or climbed Everest, both things I’d never even attempt because that’s not really my design.
But what I did today is normally in my wheelhouse. I worshipped with people I care about. I attended a long lunch with a subset of those same people. All wonderful—kind, godly, caring individuals prone to saying the right thing. They did nothing wrong.
It’s my life that has changed.
Have you ever experienced such a string of losses and life alterations that you survive, only to realize maybe you haven’t as well as you initially believed?
Until suddenly it exhausts you to answer the question, “how are you?” or to respond to the invitation to “catch me up on your life.”
Have you ever felt a desperate longing to be “fine?”
I used to despise the word fine. It’s non-descript, commonplace, a cliché. I’m a writer after all and we eschew cliches’ but today, I would have given my left foot to be fine.
Instead, the losses, changes, transitions—good, bad, expected, traumatic, chosen, unwanted all caught up with me and every conversation snowballed into the next like a cartoon avalanche, an unfunny cartoon or one that’s only funny if you’re not the one in the path of the careening snowball.
Authentic. It’s always been important to me to be authentic and vulnerable. To refuse to protect myself and let God be my protector.
Today, that just seemed like a crazy idealistic notion best left to fictional characters. Who needs authentic when it seems more like drama? Like stuff no one wants to hear? Or makes you sound like maybe you don’t trust God to work all things together for good.
I do. After over sixty years of following Him, I do. But, there are paths I’d have preferred not to be walking and choices I wish other people had rejected and incidents it would have made my life easier if they hadn’t occurred, but here we are.
And Jesus is definitely with me, but I would rather be lying down in green pastures.
Ever hear yourself answering questions about what you’re doing and suddenly not recognize your life? That was me today.
And maybe this is too real to share—it probably is—and maybe it makes you uncomfortable to read—it probably does, but as it turns out, one thing that hasn’t changed is my commitment to authenticity, to God in real time, to standing in truth—
Even if that means I’m up to the top of my waders in personal pain.
And even though I trust that God is my shepherd and that He works all things together for good and that He is always with me, even though I believe all that to my core,
I wish that some things that were lost were not, and I wish some things that have changed didn’t and I wish when people ask how I am, I could just say that I’m fine.
Still, even though I can’t say that I’m fine, here’s what I can say: God is with me, and I am with Him. That hasn’t changed.
Worshiping Him today was bliss. Talking about things that matter to Him was unbridled joy. Sharing a prayer and a meal with others who know and love Him was heaven this side of glory.
And that will tide me over through the exhaustion and the pain.
And there will be a mountaintop on the other side of this valley, but somehow, I felt like it was important for someone to hear what it’s like during the climb, because much of life is the climb.
Much of life is lugging the pack where the air is too thin and heels blister and it’s hard to breath and you wonder why you even began this trek in the first place
So, be sure that your climbing companion is Jesus
That will make all the difference.
I suspect some of you wish you could say you are fine. And you are, because you know Jesus is with you, but you’re walking a stretch of road you wish hadn’t come up. I hear you. Please know, you’re not alone.
I guess that’s all I wanted to say, really. So, I’ll close with words from two writers who saw some dark stretches of road and understood about life when fine had gone missing in the fog:
“Frodo: I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.
Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”–J.R.R.Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings
“Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear. The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden: it is easier to say “My tooth is aching” than to say “My heart is broken.” C.S.Lewis, The Problem of Pain
The Problem of Pain – When It's Mind (or Yours) https://t.co/sBuzKcJapu (When you're not fine). #Jesus #amwriting
— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) July 16, 2022
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I hear you, oh how I hear you… you are correct in saying that the Lord is in it with you, and that you don’t doubt Hus presence, but oh how some of the climb is painful to the point of overwhelming …
Thank you for sharing
Blessings
Maxine
Prayers for you, Maxine!
Well said – I have been there – all I can say is I agree- I stand in the storm and Jesus stands there with me – that’s the only “ fine “ place to be
Thank you, Sheryl.
Thank you!! I needed to read this more than you can imagine
Praise God!
This means more to me, Lori, than a stack of happy clappy crappy stuff that gets written about Jesus Christ and our walk with Him. I hope you felt His Pleasure as you wrote it, and just please KNOW that your present pain is working good in many, many hearts and souls just because you shared it.
Thank you, my friend!
Got up much too early.Could not sleep. In a new place after 57 years. Finding difficulty adjusting. Needed to hear Lori’s message
Prayers for you, Arne.
Oh Lori. I so understand and so wish I could give you a hug today. Life’s twists and turns can be joyful, but many of them are painful, disappointing and hurtful, and ultimately exhausting. . We all have stories. I know how hard it is to say “I’m fine.” In those times I am so thankful that I have Jesus by my side. I am praying for you as you maneuver all of this.
I feel your hug, Janet. Thank you.
This is so real and so true, Lori, for most of us at times, for me just now. Thank you for sharing your journey. Your willingness to share your vulnerability in your writing helps me to let down my own walls. May God bless and keep you and may your climb soon reach the mountain top.
And prayers for you as well, dear friend!
Indeed, when someone asks how I am, I pause or say, “I don’t like that question” and give an answer to a different question.,
Diagnosed with ALS and watching my outward body wasting away, I hang onto the promise that the inward man is being renewed day by day. With God’s small mercies, I attach myself to the future like a barnacle on a clam shell.
I like that, Pam. Thanks!
I relate to the exhaustion and to the angst of not fully recognizing who I am not anymore (in some social situations, anyway). There’s a tugging inside between the desire to worship and do life with like-minded lovers of our Lord and to enjoy the peacefulness of isolation. Isolation wins most of the time–partly due to an introvert personality, partly because it’s exhausting to discern whether to say, “Yes, I’m fine,” or to actually talk about the parts of life that aren’t fine. I will most often go the “I’m fine” route. Because I do live in the presence of Jesus and His agape love. And because I have learned that some things are best divulged only to a select few.
Thank you for writing about your heart. Your honesty and vulnerability are gifts.
Thank you, Carol. You articulate the struggle well.
Thank you for sharing, Lori. Your writings always bless me. I also can so relate. At 74 I just moved to a new state and am in a new church and am desperately trying to connect with other believers. But so far, no one has extended to me the hand of friendship other than saying hello, so I spend most of my time alone. But I was reminded today through one of my readings that Moses entered the darkness where God was Exodus 20:21. You and your other readers who commented are in my prayers.
Joanne, you are also in mine.
Oh, Lori, your way with words is a gift you use so well. Your authenticity touches more people than you will ever know. Instead of using the word “fine” when people ask me how I’m doing, I say, “I’m in the best place I can be–smack in the middle of God’s plan for me!” They don’t need to know (or want to hear) the gory details. 🙂
Great answer, my friend!
I like how you put that.
Thanks,
Tricia
Lori,
Thank you for sharing what you are going through and yet a real lesson to stand by our faith. By being vulnerable, you also allow us to be, even if it’s just with ourselves. You remind me about how important is is to be authentic with our feelings. May you feel the thoughts and care surrounding you.
Many of your blog posts are in my saved bucket but this one will be at the top. Thank you, Lori, for using your gift of writing words to encourage me today. I will be praying for you.
Thank you, Lori. What you write is so true, on point. The one aspect of “pain” that eludes even the “pain” docs is dealing with physical pain that is more obscure, more elusive, such as headache, fibromyalgia & arthritis (and many others). If your leg is broken or you are lying in a hospital bed, somehow “pain” is more recognizable, dare we say it, more acceptable? And then, there is severe, chronic pain that few even get. You are so right: knowing Jesus is with you, that the power of the Holy Spirit dwells within makes it all bearable. And having brothers & sisters in Christ come alongside makes a world of difference!
I can totally identify. THINGS keep happening. But I will not give up. let up, roll over, play dead, or let go of the hem of my Savior’s garment. He is the only one that will get me through..
I am so sorry to hear that, Karen. Will pray for things to settle down for you!