I love my Fitbit. Every hour it vibrates to let me know that I need to get up and move. When I first got it a little over a year ago, I would actually get up and walk around until I got my 250 steps in for that hour. Over time though, I would ignore the vibration periodically.
I just checked the app to see when’s the last time I got all my hourly steps in during the day. Y’all, it was February of last year! What happened?
Texas was home for my first eighteen years until 1997 when I moved up north to first Montana then Washington. I now have four children and due to the cost of plane tickets, I am only able to go visit every two to three years. In fact, until this past December, I hadn’t been home for Christmas since before I left in 1996.
Imagine you’re lying in bed next to your spouse, eagerly waiting for them to wake up. You gaze upon them quietly with love and admiration until finally they open their eyes. But the first thing they do is grab their phone and check for missed messages or emails. They don’t even bother to say good morning to you.
Every year, FB reminds me of the exact moment when one of my closest friendships died. I could delete the memory and never see it again, but I choose to remember where I came from and what God brought me out of.
It goes by many names: existential depression, existential
crisis, existential anxiety, existential angst… but what is it exactly? It’s
pretty hard to describe if you’ve never experienced it. Here is the best definition
I’ve found so far:
All these letters I’ve been posting lately really make me realize how broken I was for five years. Today on the way to church I was listening to “Waymaker”– which, by the way, is one of my favorite songs, and if you’ve never heard it, I highly suggest you take a listen- and I was thinking back about how God has been working in my life.
One part of the song says,
“Even when I don’t feel it, you’re working.
Even when I don’t see it, you’re working.
You never stop, you never stop working.”
That part really resonates with me because oftentimes, I can’t feel or see God at work, but I know he never stops working.