If my life was somehow projected onto a screen and someone sat and watched it for a while, they would probably get a little bored, but I think they would come to the conclusion that I've got it pretty good. And they would be right. I have everything I need. I have people who love me, people whom I love, a warm place to sleep at night and the ability to buy groceries every week. I have laughter and joy. I have comfort and camaraderie. Work for my hands to do and rest from that work.
I have all these blessings. I have all this life, and it's good.
But, lately, I just feel tired.
More than tired, actually. It feels more like a certain...weariness.
I keep thinking I have no right to feel this way, but here I am feeling it anyway. Weary.
I think I'm weary because I've lost truth amid the cracker crumbs and sticky pieces of peach that continually make their home under my dining room table, no matter how many times I sweep them throughout the day. Truth has gotten a little groggy each morning I drag myself out of bed to the sound of my daughter crying in her room because I accidentally (well maybe not accidentally) switched off the monitor like it's my alarm clock. Again. It gets a bit deflated when I can't seem to muster up the organizational skills to meal plan properly, and I don't have anything to cook for dinner. Or when I haven't left the house in days because, well, it's hard to do with a baby. Or when I am completely void of any inspiration to write anything anyone would find worth reading because I haven't done anything worth writing about.
It's a maddening cycle.
When it comes down to it, the truth is I am doing needed work. I am doing valuable work.
I am doing good work.
Whichever season life finds us in, there is always good needing to be done. There is always something worth doing. But one of the quirky things about goodness is that it doesn't always look much like itself. Sometimes it's beaming up at us, shimmering gloriously in its nobleness, and we know it so well that we scoop it right up and carry on with it joyfully.
Other times, maybe even most times, it is tucked away humbly in a dirty diaper or mingling with the broccoli and ground beef in our grocery bag. Sometimes it's hiding timidly behind the couch as we exchange heated words with our husbands or laying quietly beside us after we fall into bed after spending all day trying to comfort a baby who refuses to be comforted.
When good looks like this, a little shabby, a little worn around the edges, it can be difficult to see. When my accomplishments are small each day and need to be accomplished all over again the next day, and I don't have much to show for what I've done, it's hard to believe I've done much good at all. When doing good isn't exciting or pretty or easily recognizable, when it's hard and tedious and subtle, we might begin to experience a weariness we feel in our bones.
After all, where are all the good results of all the good I'm doing? Where is the fruit of my labor of good?
I am learning the answer.
It's coming. At just the right time.
We just have to wait for it.
And in the waiting, we take heart. We don't give up.
Because good work always precedes a harvest.
"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." Galatians 6:9