I remember exclaiming “Is this really my life?” while sipping drinks with my girlfriends on a girls’ trip in my early twenties. We were sun-bathing in an infinity pool overlooking the beautiful waters of St. John. We kept repeating that phrase over and over again, pinching ourselves in disbelief that we were able to go on a trip as magnificent as this.
Even in the midst of heartaches we had endured, dissecting every detail—trying to determine answers, we could not believe we were living this life on these beautiful waters.
I did not anticipate years later I would meet the man most perfect for me. The heartaches of that day would become a mist completely evaporated in the light of love my husband has for me and I for him.
Is this really my life?
I whispered in my head after my students had left to get on the bus, feeling every bit defeated at how the day had gone. My students did not listen to me. I felt like I couldn’t teach a lesson to save my life. And I wondered if I had missed the mark entirely when I decided to become a teacher. I thought, in that downhearted moment, I was not cut out for this work.
It wasn’t until years later (through teaching different grade levels) that I finally got my groove. Each trying moment growing me into a better more compassionate teacher. A teacher who only wished for her students to know she cared about them first before focusing on the content they were learning.
Is this really my life?
I cried to my husband in the doctor’s office as we were just told the news of our second failed pregnancy. How could this be? When I imagined pregnancy, I didn’t imagine miscarriages. I pictured celebrations, growing bellies, and the glow that comes only with being pregnant. I couldn’t imagine the heartache of having to go to the surgery room to have the baby we thought we were going to have removed from my uterus. We had tried and failed and tried again and…failed again. There was no way I was going to jump lightly into trying again. How could we go forward, move on from this moment?
Only time would prove to heal a broken heart and gently unclench the controlled grasp my fingers held on my life. It was just a short time, in hindsight, from that moment that we learned we were pregnant again. We hesitantly welcomed this news, cautiously optimistic about the end result. And 9 months later we rejoiced as our beautiful son was born, healthy and perfect for us.
Is this really my life?
I look at myself now in my athleisure-wear and mom bun (yes, always the fashionista, I must say ;). I think about my laughing baby boy who literally fills my heart with joy; my sweet listening husband who loves me unconditionally; and my supportive family and friends we get to do life. I smile and think, This life I have been given is a gift. Each day revealing more of God’s heart in my life.
Each moment prepares your heart and mind to do…nothing but merely rest in this space of grace and gratitude.
The Road You Take Is Your Own
The road to the place you are at right now has not easy. And the road from this current moment won’t be easy. But when your mind and heart become positioned in the delicate balance of grace, you will recognize the many blessings and gifts. So many moments for which to be thankful, dear friend. God is waiting patiently for you to taste and see that He is good. Always good.
Bottom Line
Depending on your inflection, a phrase like, “Is this really my life?!” could mean a palm-to-face moment, shaking your head at a series of unfortunate events. Or a can’t-stop-smiling moment, bowing your head in gratitude at all the good seen when you look around you.
Yes, there are days when you just want to cry out in agony, “Is this really my life?!” And feel free to cry it out, sister. Even Jesus wept. And there will also be days you will shout to the heavens in extreme joy, “Is this really my life?!” Your feet will dance and your voice will sing a song of thanksgiving.
However you say it, this is your life. Enjoy the days given, learn from the trying times, and overall, give thanks to God in all His glory because He has held your hand the entire way.
