I drove to JPS yesterday, third time in three days. God is good.
The sun was out, I had just finished a marathon, I worried myself sick throughout the whole marathon. God is good.
I left a hospital cafeteria with my mom and sobbed in the hallway. God is good.
I kept saying “It will be ok. It has to be. It has always been. You’ll see”. God is good.
I don’t know that I believe my own words. God is good.
I prayed freedom for my brother. God is good.
I cried for sin and lies and struggles and pain and frustration. God is good.
I’m crying in my car, weeping for freedom and salvation and rest, how I need rest. And I am dying to understand.
I’m dying to have the pressure lifted just a bit, because I can’t do it all. I can’t be great sister, daughter, friend, teacher, and girlfriend, I can’t. I must know to whom I belong, where I can find that ever elusive rest. I cannot be the person I was last week or last month or in September, right now. That person is barely holding on. God is good.
My heart is worried, scared, restless, nervous, racing. God is good.
I plan for the next four hours, I don’t know what’s coming, I can’t plan further out than that. I know he is safe. God is good.
God is good. God understands. God goes before and makes a way. God is in this. God forgives. God loves. God is love. God does not expect perfection from an imperfect person. God is peace and rest and space. God is God. He is holding me.
I remind myself of struggles. Of anorexia, divorce, heart ache, late nights, panic attacks. I remind myself that He will not drop me on my head. He’s just not going to. He can’t. He’s good. He’s holding me. He holds my loved ones. He is rest and space and peace.
He is good. He will show up. He will heal. He will turn this weeping into laughter.
HE CANNOT FAIL.
God is good.