Sometimes, the most frustrating thing is knowing that you can’t quit.
Last Friday, I really wanted to quit – quit being a grown-up, quit being a mom, quit being a wife, quit being a pastor, quit being a friend, a sister, a daughter, a leader, just quit. It was too much. And then I got mad because I knew I had lots of options, but quitting, the only option I wanted, was not an option. And then I cried, tears of frustration and self-pity, and tears of pure mad-ness.
And then I sent my husband the following text:
He knew I couldn’t quit. I knew I couldn’t quit. But somehow it helped saying it, and just for a split-second, believing it.
And then I called an end to my pity party. It wasn’t fun while it lasted, so I figured I might as well stop.
And then I remembered to be grateful…grateful that I couldn’t quit. Because if I could quit, I would quit, and I would most certainly regret it forever. Because the only things worth doing in this life – like marriage and parenthood and friendship and community and faith and all of those things all at the same time – are hard. And if you quit, you miss the good stuff, the stuff that comes after the hard when the hard doesn’t win because you didn’t quit.
Sometimes it’s good to remember that there’s always an “And then” and while we can’t always see it coming, we know that eventually the “and then’s” make it to a place called hope, which doesn’t ever disappoint (Romans 5).
What’s the “And then” on the other side of wherever you are right now? Can I pray for you to get there?