My Sofa in Lynchburg, VA

Church #173 still happened on Sunday, but once again it wasn’t within the familiar walls of a church building. If this journey has taught me anything over these last three years, it is that God refuses to be confined to a sanctuary.

He has met me in living rooms, doctor’s offices, cemeteries, hospital waiting rooms, my car, walking trails, online services, workplaces, and tonight, He met me sitting beside my daughter after another long day that left me wondering where the energy for tomorrow was going to come from.

After working a full shift, taking care of responsibilities at home, doing chores, and more work, my eyes were drooping from exhaustion. I wish that it could be fixed by one good night’s sleep. But this tired settles into your bones after months of grief, responsibility, caregiving, worry, work, and trying so hard to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I have learned there is a difference between being physically tired and being soul tired.

And tonight…

My soul IS tired.

Church happened as my daughter read a chapter aloud from Girl, Wash Your Face, and I could not help but smile at God’s timing.

Out of every chapter she could have read, this one was exactly what my heart needed. The message was simple, but it was one I have struggled to live, accept help from people willing to give it.

It sounds so easy, doesn’t it?

Until you’re the one who has always been the helper. Until you’re the one who feels guilty for needing someone else. Until life hands you more than two hands could ever hold.

That is where I have found myself lately.

There simply are not enough hours in the day. There simply is not enough of me. For a long time, I kept trying to prove there was. But God has been gently, lovingly reminding me that He never asked me to carry ALL OF THIS.

I have had to learn to accept help, and that has been harder than I ever imagined. I am so incredibly thankful for my in-laws, who have stepped in to help with so many things. I am thankful for my neighbors, who have faithfully mowed our yard all summer without asking for anything in return. Every time I look outside, I do not just see freshly cut grass. I see love. I see kindness. I see people becoming the hands and feet of Jesus without needing recognition for it.

I am thankful for loved ones and co-workers who continue to encourage me when I feel like I have nothing left. I am thankful for friends who check in. I am thankful for every message, every prayer, every kind word from those of you who have faithfully followed this journey.

Sometimes we pray for miracles while overlooking the people God already sent to become part of the answer.

Maybe accepting help is not admitting defeat.

That thought broke my heart tonight.

Because I realized something.

I have spent so much of my life trying to be strong that I forgot strength was never the goal.

Dependence was.

When I think about the poem Footprints in the Sand, I cannot help but laugh through my tears because I picture something entirely different these days. I do not picture one set of footprints.

I picture one very long groove in the sand.

Because I think there have been days when Jesus has not simply carried me…

He has practically dragged me. Dragged me through grief. Dragged me through exhaustion. Dragged me through worry. Dragged me through responsibilities I never expected to carry. Dragged me through days when I honestly did not think I had another step left in me.

And this probably sounds terrible but maybe sometimes He has had to drag me because I am too stubborn to accept help.

The beautiful thing about Jesus is that He loves us enough to carry or “drag” us anyway.

I do not know how I am going to make it through this season. I really don’t. I do not know how every bill will be paid. I do not know how the sales at work are going to come. I do not know how every burden on my heart will eventually be lifted.

But I know this.

God already knows.

He is not surprised by any of it. He is not pacing in heaven trying to figure out Plan B. He is not overwhelmed by what overwhelms me.

So little by little, prayer by prayer, tear by tear, I have had to keep laying things at the feet of Jesus. Sometimes I lay them down in the morning and pick them back up by lunch. Sometimes I surrender the same fear twenty times in one day.

But I keep bringing them back to Him.

The reason Jesus tells us to cast our burdens on Him is that they are never meant to stay on our shoulders.

Church has looked so different during this season…

If someone had told me years ago that some of the deepest sermons I would ever hear would happen in living rooms, doctor’s offices, while caring for family, or listening to my daughter read a book aloud, I probably would not have believed them.

But now I do. Because Jesus keeps showing up.

Here I am tonight.

Writing.

Breathing.

Still believing.

Still loving.

Still serving.

Still praising.

So thank you for continuing to walk this journey with me. I know these past months have felt like a roller coaster. They have certainly felt that way to me. But I also know that God has not wasted a single tear, a single detour, a single waiting room, or a single weary day. He is writing a story that I cannot fully see yet, but I trust Him even when I cannot read the next chapter.

And that is enough for me tonight.

I cannot wait to see where the Holy Spirit leads next week.

Love you all so much,

Annie Stewart Lambert