When your Easter Sunday turns into a case of the Mondays.

I think it's because it's raining this morning.  

Normally a week off and rain and coffee and the Word and having time to write in this space make my heart pitter patter and swoony.  However, today I sort of just stared at the river with disappointment.  This was the very day that was promised to be sunny and warm and dedicated to outside home chores.  I was hoping that the hard rain I heard on my roof last night and earlier this morning would rain itself out so that I could get going on my list.

I've been longing for this day--a day to freshen the outside of our home via some pressure washing and paint on the shutters, doors, and porch.  To weed the front, to bring in some color and signs of life to the outside of this home.  To make this look like a welcome space when people pull into our gates.

Instead I have a rainy morning.  And the weathermen are a little iffy as to when it may all rain itself out.

Lots of dreams for the day. . .and I'm left disappointed.  

Maybe your disappointments aren't as simple as home improvement projects.  Maybe they move past the simple into the complex.  Those situations that don't make sense at all.  I've talked to friends just this past week who have lost their dreams, their marriages, and their family members.  I have seen and read the clouds in their eyes--the very same eyes that held sparkle and hope just a short while ago.  

What is it about life that seems to turn us all on our heads sometimes?  My world turned itself upside down about a year ago, and I'm still curious if we're standing straight up again at times.  I have battled and laid to rest some deep issues and every once in a while I need to revisit the cemetery to stomp on the graves of the things I've long since buried.  

They tend to rise from the dead when I least expect it.  

And just when I think things are going ok, I remind myself that we're getting ready to welcome a baby in t-minus 63 days.  I have a feeling that all of the cute baby things will also be matched by serious changes in family dynamics.  Some moments I'm excited and anxious to meet our littlest sister.  In other moments I'm still wondering what exactly we've gotten ourselves into--and how in the world we will make it all work.  

The ebb and flow of life can be so exhausting sometimes.  Just yesterday we were on an Easter high.  We celebrated the resurrection and the life and the goodness of our Lord.  We dressed.  We photographed.  We prepared a special meal.  We ate with family.  We spent the day together.  Communion was a real event.  The songs and message reminded me that He has risen.  

And yet, this morning I'm left with a candy hangover and feeling the need to mope a smidge.  

I know that my lows may not compare to the ones others struggle with, but they do affect me down to my very core.  They shatter my world and they chip away at my confidence.  They attack me on my most vulnerable levels and sometimes I'm left hopeless and defeated. 

As I was attempting to get out of the bed this morning (it's getting to be a little more complex and strategic these days), I asked Him where these low feelings came from.  I was surprised by the waves of defeat that washed over me first thing this morning.  I trudged out of the bedroom, my feet and body aching and swollen.  I moved quietly in the kitchen, not quite ready to face the day and my children, and willed the coffee to drip a little quicker. 

The Lord reminded me gently that He's in all of this, too.  

He's not just in the celebration, but He's also found in the clean-up.  

I serve a risen Savior, but I'm most thankful that He meets me on Monday mornings when I need that rare second cup of coffee and that He allows time to be disappointed.  He reminds me that it's human to experience the highs and lows.  It's normal to not be on a high all of the time, and those lows build my confidence in the things unseen.    

The cross wasn't just for Good Friday or Easter Sunday.  
It was for the next day as well.