Jesus and Zombies

It’s been almost a month since being home.

I feel like it’s been a year.

I also feel like I’m a zombie.

Scooby Doo, where are you?

If I remember correctly, (which my memory seems to be a bit off lately), the last time I blogged was about a week after being home and I was recovering from dehydration due to crying too much and my tone was about as flat as my feet.

Well, here we are again giving this whole “blogging from the states” another try a few weeks later.

Brief update on my life:

Good things: school, internship and work have started so I’m no longer able to binge on ice cream in bed all day long, Tick and I are adjusting nicely to our typical sleeping arrangement (her in the middle of the bed and me spooning around her), and I have been through two Sunday School mornings without severely traumatizing the kindergarteners.

Bad things: I’ve started running again, along with Crossfit, so I am a giant mass of sore muscles on the verge of cramping at the slightest flex, I can’t seem to fall asleep and when I do, I have unpleasant dreams and wake up millions of times only to fall asleep just in time for my alarm to go off, and my brain seems to be functioning at the level of a 101-year-old.

I’m still trying to use the “jet lag” excuse, but considering it’s been about four weeks since I’ve landed, I think the only reasonable conclusion to my mental status is the fact that this past year has been a doozie and I’m simply going through a season of mental and spiritual exhaustion with a side of grieving.

Shortly after coming home last summer, Benjamin blessed our family with his presence. The morning after he was born, I was heading back to life in Tyler, which happened to consist of the two hardest semesters of my entire life. On a difficulty scale of 1-10, school was about 1,000,000, work was an extremely hostile and chaotic environment and if I wasn’t studying, I was babysitting or doing something besides be by myself and process the summer and loss of Benjamin.

Then this past summer decides to slap me in the face.

I mean, I’m not complaining. Jesus did a number on my heart and in the lives of those babies.

Those babies mean the world to me so if I have to be slapped every single day in order for them to feel loved, well then I guess I better get used to a sore face and bruised eyes.

This past summer I experienced things I never knew existed. The amount of abuse, neglect and poverty still plague my mind on a daily basis.

I will be in the middle of a conversation with a friend when, out of nowhere, my heart breaks and an overwhelming darkness surrounds me. I have pictures of the babies on my wall and on my phone so I can remember their sweet faces.

But sometimes the longing in my heart for them to be in my arms again is more than I can stand.

Big crowds exhaust me, fast-paced overwhelms me, and it takes about 10 times of reading a page before I can finally grasp what the words are saying.

Sometimes I feel like the worst friend alive because when someone starts talking to me, I tend to zone out and start thinking about my babies.

Or sometimes think of nothing at all.

I really do wonder sometimes if this is what it feels like to be a zombie.

I mean, think about it:

I can’t sleep, all I want to do is eat things in an inappropriate manner at inappropriate times (not bodies though), I’m zoned out about 70% of the day, and sometimes I feel like the only thing that comes out of my mouth is weird noises that no one else can understand.

JESUS, WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!?!

Basically what I am trying to say is I’m still not back to “normal.”

It was so bad Labor Day weekend that I called my mom on a Saturday night asking her to drive up the next morning and stay with me until that Monday afternoon.  

I think I’ve asked, “what is wrong with me?” about a million times to my closest friends.

Ok, a million times to my closest friends might be an exaggeration.

I’ve asked, “what is wrong with me?” about a million times to Tick.

There. That’s more accurate.

I’m starting to realize that this is probably going to be the “new normal” for the next couple of weeks and possibly months. This past year has been packed full of difficult events and little time to process it all. I have spent many nights crying out to God, begging Him for mercy right after asking Him why He had forsaken me. He has poured an immeasurable amount of grace upon me, sanctified my heart over and over again, and has made me trust in Him when it was the last thing I wanted to do.

After a season of go, go, go, I’ve now entered into a season rest. My days might be full with work, internship and class, but by 5:00 pm, I’m usually free. It was in those evening hours that I used to fill with activities and service, but now I’m finding myself needing to be alone.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t necessarily want to be alone. Sometimes I wish I just had someone there that I could touch but not have to talk to.

Sometimes, Loneliness feels like an 80-pound blanket that I can’t shake off.

But it’s in these moments when I’m on the verge of breaking that Jesus comes in.

He removes the blanket, wraps His arms around me, and reminds me that I am His. He tells me that He is my refuge, my shield, my strength.

When insecurities plague me, when nightmares haunt me, when loneliness surrounds me, I cuddle up into His arms and find peace.

When anxiety and panic take hold of me, I reach for His hand next to me and feel secure.

This last month has been one like I’ve never known. I’ve never experienced such grief and heartache, confusion, and loneliness.

But when I think back to why I’m feeling all of it, I realize that I wouldn’t trade this season for anything.

I wouldn’t be where I am today without the grace of our loving Savior.

So if you just so happen to be around me, don’t be afraid to give me a hug.

Hugs are quite nice.

And please don’t be taken aback by my lack of filter, confusing statements, and sudden need to let Tick out- she’s my excuse when I get overwhelmed.

Please continue to pray for the other interns as they adjust back to life in the states. And please, please pray for my babies. I’ve been blessed with pictures and videos of them, all proving the healing power of Jesus.

Oh, how I love Him!

Daily, He saves me and reminds me I am His.

And right now, that’s all I need to be ok.