purging

The day had been a bit of a struggle. Who likes cleaning out the garage? Maybe I would if I ended up with an empty garage in the end. But life with a family of five is a far cry from the simplicity of college when the whole of my possessions fit in my four-door hatch back red Chevy Nova.

But we had made it through. The toys stowed away in the garage for getting rid of served the purpose of keeping the kids occupied while I sorted and sorted and sorted. At least they kept them busy when they weren’t fighting over them.

I must admit; I was doing pretty well all things considered. That is until I started cooking dinner. I could feel myself tighten. I began grumbling in my head. Irritation and resentment started to grit against my soul the way sand does on the ride home from the beach.

I won’t lie. Hormones were involved. I’ve started wondering if PMS is known to get worse after bearing children.

Either way, by the time I got in the car after dinner to drop off a few bags of clothes at a friend’s house, I was thinking what a fortunate thing it was that I would be away from humanity for a few moments, alone in the cocoon of my minivan. Fortunate for everyone involved, that is.

I turned on some of my favorite music and my shoulders released their suction from my ears. I started to talk to God. It was a little awkward. It’s been a little awkward between us ever since my therapy. Not distant per say, just different. I’ll leave it at that.

I was talking to God about some big philosophical things I have been wrestling with lately. Things I don’t have answers to. Things I am not sure anyone has answers to. There were some awkward silences.

And then, somewhere on the drive home, it happened. I didn’t hear a voice or have some large epiphany or see the answers to my questions mysteriously appear in the stars. I sensed that I was loved.

In the midst of my questions and awkwardness and wrestling I knew that I was loved even still. Because I don’t earn love by having all the answers or not asking questions or having appropriate hormone levels or a lack of internal tension.

Love is not earned. This is a truth I cannot be reminded of enough.

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