Thunderstorm

I don’t know what it is about a thunderstorm, but it seems to knock loose all the fears we store away as if the thundering booms awaken all our sleeping worries.  At least that is what happened to me in last night’s storm.  After comforting both of my children back to sleep with promises of safety I lie in my own bed wide awake hearing each new rumble and crash and fearing the worst in all aspects of my life.  I feared that the thunder was a return of the tornado warning we just had and imagined the horrific thought of what would happen should a cyclone choose to target our house.  I worried about my husband and the lies I was probably unaware of, fearing that now that I have decided not to give up and continue fighting, he would only disappoint me again leaving me to raise my two children on my own.  I feared that the friends I had were merely circumstantial and that in truth I was more alone than I accounted for.  I feared that the life I have had is easy compared to the life before me.  So I lie there in my bed fearing and feeling so alone, wishing that this life was finally over and that I could finally have peace that lasted longer than five minutes.  I wished that my heart would stop aching at all the hurt I feel and hurting for all the loss I have endured.  I wished for an end.  Then I felt a little silly.  Here I am 27 years old and cowering in a thunderstorm like my two year old.  I was disappointed in myself for letting Satan plant those fears and so I am fighting them or at least trying to as I write this out, but still my heart is heavy and I am sad, so sad. 

I fight my circumstances, I fight my temptations and depressions, I fight for my beliefs and I am sad that I have to fight so hard just to make it through a day.  I am sad that I never feel prepared to fight and that it scares me to do so, on a daily basis.  I am sad that many days I don’t feel strong enough to even wear the armor, let alone interact in battle. I am sad.

The thunder shakes the house and I startle again, but I stay as string as I can in case my two year old wakes up and needs comforting again.  I am sad, but I fight.