God is Patient with My Process

I am not patient.  Really, I think all of us are patient/impatient about different kinds of things.  My husband and I have been discerning our path for the last 3 years and still don't have a permanent place to live or even one full-time job.  This would drive many people crazy, and while I have my moments of frustration and jangled nerves, I'm hanging in there. Trusting and hoping in God's plan, and our family's role in it.  What I struggle with more is my own growth.  Kicking a habit/sin, developing a habit/maturing- I hate waiting on myself.  When I see the plank of imperfection in my own eye, I want nothing more than to rip it out.

Having a baby has put a spotlight on this.   In the early months of little sleep and much crying, I wanted Jesus to pay me a visit.  In all his glory, in my living room.  I was shocked to learn that I couldn't will God into a performance for me.  I couldn't understand why, if I was trying so hard to be a good mother but obviously failing so miserably, he wouldn't come and visit me, change me so I could be closer to perfect.  Why would he let me stay in rage, exhaustion and self-pity?  I would get so angry with my son at times, I truly would have to just walk away.  (I now understand why they spent so much time addressing "Shaken Baby Syndrome" during our childbirth class.)  I would mind-swear, beg God to help him sleep, beg God to make me sleep, tense up and stress out over every noise, every creaky floor board.  I steathily snuck down the hallway like Chuck Bartowski avoiding security lasers.   I saw myself as a sin-factory cranking out new crappy thoughts by the minute.  I would literally scream and cry in frustration that God didn't intervene.

Why didn't He?

This season of life has lead me to wrestle with the real questions of my faith.

LORD, are you not intervening because:

A. You're not real?
B. You're real but don't see me?
C. You set the universe in motion like a clock but have a hands-off approach now?
D. I deserve this?
E. You are trying to get rid of me?

My husband, being the RIDICULOUSLY patient Pastor-Man that he is suggested reason F.

F. You (God) are patient with me through this very difficult process of raising a big, strong, refluxy/colicky baby, while dealing with hormone imbalances and sorely missing my mother.  You see my mess and you love me still.

What? I challenged him (obvs).

So God is okay with me like this? Really, you think God wants me to stay a crazy, angry, social-life deprived maniac?  He likes me this way? Really?  He's okay with my mind swearing, pillow-punching, self-hating lunacy?  I give.

Hubby went on to explain (I'd really never thought this clearly about it) that parenting is hard and it's part of life. God doesn't keep us from "hard".    Remember the cross?    He said that just because I was so angry with myself for being so angry that that didn't mean that GOD was angry with me.  I was projecting that onto Him, putting words in His mouth.  This discussion probably happened 10-15 times over the course of 8 months.  I am so grateful for my husband's steadfastness in telling me the truth until it sunk down deep enough to become my own.

God knows our hearts. He knows mine.  He also knows the seasons of our life.  While I have never been more angry, more doubtful, more high-maintenance in my entire life, God sees me as the future-finished-me, the transformed by Jesus me.  Remarkably, he loves me even in the midst of my terrible-thirtyones.

If God can pull me out of that deep, dark place and do it slowly and gently and if my husband can persevere in conversations about faith and doubt while I badger him with "yeah-buts?" for MONTHS on end, then maybe I can learn to be more patient with my process.  And with yours too.