It took me two months—two very long months—to find a job after graduating from college. I was definitely giving up hope, but I kept applying for positions and having interviews and receiving autogenerated rejection emails. I felt so...behind. Was my feeling of "behind-ness" normal?
Your therapist told you to feel your grief. To stop avoiding your frustration. To sit in your discomfort. To face your pain. And you promised her that you would. So you did. You felt your grief, stopped avoiding your frustration, sat in your discomfort, and faced your pain. But you didn’t feel any better. Instead, you felt more upset and more hopeless than you did before. Why?
I already miss college. I’m not ready to graduate. But maybe I don’t have to feel ready. Maybe I don’t have to feel anything. Maybe I just have to do something. In fact, maybe we shouldn’t be so worried about feeling ready. Maybe we just need to do the next right thing.
I bet we would all say that we hope 2021 is better than 2020. But what if it’s not? What if 2021 is worse than 2020? My goal for this post is not to make you lose hope but to point you to a hope that we can’t lose.
I knew my mom had been in excruciating pain for the past year and a half. Her tongue cancer made it difficult for her to swallow. But until today when I saw how long it took for her to undergo radiation and chemo, I didn’t understand how much pain she really felt.
Despite what many Christians will tell you (or imply), it's actually okay to feel empty. You're not less of a Christian because you can't see, hear, or feel God right now...even if that "right now" period lasts for a while. It isn't our job as believers to conjure up emotions that don't exist.
My excitement about going home for spring break turned into nervousness about the unknown for the rest of the semester. I hate the unknown. That’s why I’m most concerned about the coronavirus. Because I don't know when I can resume my normal life again.
I should be okay with hearing the word “no” when I expected to hear the word “yes.” But I’m not. I am surprised (not in the good way), and I am worried about the implications of that “no.”