Small Frys

Last updated on: November 28, 2015 at 11:40 pm by Abra Carnahan

Small Frys 2015-11-28T23:40:58-07:00 Abra Carnahan

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Jude's foot Right now I’m asking myself why I am typing these words. I don’t feel inspired. I don’t think I have anything worth saying right now. Jude (age 5), is balancing on the arm of an old chair, peering over the printer in our office/homeschool room trying to see what is on my computer screen. His grin is mischievous when he spies my phone and asks me to take a picture of his feet. We are biding our time until bed. I’m in my fleece jammies, my hair is messy and I am wearing a moisturizing face mask. It is barely six o’clock in the evening. It has just been that kind of day.

I cried a lot over the last couple days. I’ve been broken up with before by friends. As many times as this has happened to me, you’d think it would get easier, but it doesn’t. My heart hurts so much. Given my history of abuse, healthy relationships are especially challenging for me to find. I’m inclined to blame myself whenever something goes wrong. I want to apologize even when I haven’t done anything to apologize for. My husband doesn’t let me do that anymore. I’m reading this book called Safe People. It is teaching me how to identify red flags in relationships. The theory is that if I am mindful of these behaviors, I can better avoid being on the receiving end of relationship grenades that explode and reopen my old wounds. I’m trying to be thankful right now because pain has a way of making me hold on tighter to God. He is never surprised, He is all powerful and He loves me immeasurably – no matter what. It is this kind of thinking that comforts me when bad things happen. That probably sounds crazy, but crazy people don’t think they are crazy, so I maybe I’m not so crazy after all? My head hurts.

Liam (age 3) has been sick for over a month now. Cough, congestion, upset stomach. No fever, but occasional vomit. We are watching him for ear infections. Apparently, this is going around his school. Today, I found him licking clean measuring cups before returning them to the drawer. (Why haven’t we all come down with what he has?) Despite his suffering, he is mostly cheerful. I have really amazing kids. Friends and family have made us food, my daughters are helping more around the house and I’m learning to rest when I’m exhausted and still have so much to do. I’m even getting better at not panicking when I smell puke.

Last month, one of my prescriptions turned on me. It was bad. I saw a doctor, they switched up my meds. Withdrawal sucks. Ben came home from work one night because it got to be too much for me to handle alone. I was tempted to cut again. Self harm isn’t always something you can choose not to do, sometimes it is the best option given your choices. My husband took care of me. He is a good man and loving him comes more easily the longer we are married. The medication they have me on now seems to be working, but it could be too hard on my renal system. Christians who think medication is a “cop out” for dealing with sin have no idea what they are talking about. I’d much rather confront my sin than be doing skin checks for sores and rashes because it is an early warning sign: if my system cannot tolerate the medication, I could die from it. We are slowly working up to the prescribed dosage. I guess it is a good thing I’ve already practiced not being afraid of death, huh? My skin is itchy right now, probably because I’m thinking about rashes or maybe because my skin doesn’t like winter. Either way, I see a psychiatrist in a couple weeks for a medication evaluation and we will take it from there. Ben has to come with me to my appointment so I need to find a babysitter for the kids. Maybe we can squeeze in a date after I spill my guts to yet another perfect stranger?

I’m not meaning to complain. This is my way of demonstrating how easy it can be to forget God. So much is going on in my life, probably yours, too. Most days, it feels like I’m just barely keeping my head above water, you know? Confusion and chaos are the new normal. I don’t know where my life is headed. I don’t even know what tomorrow will hold and that is scary. But God knows. He planned it all and has always given me everything I need. And I know that when I still fail, despite all that He has done for me, He has an ocean of grace just ready for me to jump into.

Small Frys It is a funny thing that my blog is hosted here on Patheos. I tried to quit about a month after I started. I’m not a theologian. I’m not particularly intellectual and I don’t like arguing. I don’t fit in here. I’m a housewife, a mommy. I wipe crusted boogers of little faces and clean mold out of my fridge. It is easy to feel isolated, but I know that isn’t true. There are millions of us. We are the John Does, the ordinaries, the little guys. I guess that is why I am here typing these words, just in case you feel as overwhelmed as I do. You and I aren’t alone in this struggle, but we need to stop. We need to stop wondering if we will ever be worthy, be desirable, be enough. We need to stop fighting for our lives and start holding on to God’s promises for dear life. We are Christians. We are adopted children of God. He has our back. He allowed us to be in the exact situation each of us are in right now because He loves us and just because we don’t understand how that works doesn’t make it any less true.

My legs hurt now from standing at my husband’s fancy stand-up desk. It has taken me over four hours to write this. My laptop broke some time ago, so I’m using Ben’s desktop right now. Liam had trouble falling asleep tonight. I’d say it was just his cold, but he never goes to bed easily — he is that kid. Tonight he wanted to dance, so I held him in my arms and dimmed the light. Liam put his head on my shoulder and wrapped his chubby little arms around my neck while we swayed. Together we lifted our voices to God. We forgot some of the words and stumbled over others, but I know He accepted our clumsy offering. I know this because a good Father would delight in small frys like us.

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