Shrouded Paths

I don't trust God. I'm honest about it.

Please help me to trust You more.

If God was taking care of my worries, I wouldn't be here.

It seems God does answer prayers. 

The see-saw goes up. And down. And up. And down. Each time it swings one way, my fragile trust seems to swing with it. Like the simple folk in Jesus' time, when I see a miracle, I believe. When life gets too difficult; I lose all hope. 

The day started out rough. I'd been up for more than 2 hours in the middle of the night worrying. Worrying about fuel, worrying about groceries, worrying about health, worrying about the economic situation, worrying about family, worrying about our future. Off I went to work, in my usual foul mood as Monday mornings and first official day back to the office were not a good mix. I unlocked the front door to the building, wondering how I had managed to be the first to arrive. After logging into my email and quickly scrolling through headers, I realized why. Today was a holiday. It had been announced late Sunday evening. So, everyone else, who dutifully checked work email over the weekends and late at night, had slept in while I had dutifully come in to work. Alone. 

I had a lot to catch up on after a month away so I started working through emails. Soon enough, there was chatter in the hallways as those without a life started to trickle in, dealing with emergencies or simply feeling important. I kept my door closed and ignored the small hubbub outside. 

Later that afternoon, as campus residents exchanged commiserations in a WhatsApp group about the heat and lack of a/c because we were on generator power again, my husband sent a picture of three loose wires sticking out of our living room wall. Here is our air conditioner he joked after remarking that we knew for the past 2 years how hot it could get. Moments later he received a private message from the powers-that-be informing him that this was not the channel to complain in. He was not complaining. He was simply stating a fact. But the higher-ups, seemingly embarrassed, chose to make him feel bad when we had been silently suffering for the last two years through the insufferable summer heat. 

I sent an email. The powers-that-be, after I had sent countless emails, suddenly said there would be an a/c installed that week. Whether it was my friend who had been telling everyone he met that we were the only apartment on campus without a/c or whether it was my husband's innocent joke, somehow the a/c was magically materializing. Too little, too late, however. 

I sent a list of things that I was thankful for, in our group family chat. I had resolved to stop burdening my mother with my worries, none of which she could do anything about and would end up just being internalized which was not healthy for her. Even as I typed, I thought, Am I trusting God more because the a/c is suddenly being installed? Or do I trust God less because it wasn't here when the heat was beating down and my husband was recovering from surgery, alone, in a room with just a fan? 

I didn't have an answer. 

As I bumped along on my transatlantic flight the week before, I had felt particularly close to God. I had seen Him working it out so I could board my flights, albeit without the requisite QR code on my negative PCR test, and I was trusting He would get me home safely as I prayed each time I undertook the long journey from coast to coast. Then I landed in the hellhole I had left just a month prior, only now it seemed 10x worse, and fear and anxiety overwhelmed me. I cried, I journaled, I read my Bible, I vented to my mom and sister, I got upset with my husband, and through it all, I questioned my faith. I lay in bed that night thinking, I don't even have that mustard seed of faith. 

It was true. I'd told my husband at suppertime, as I cried into my cucumber sandwich, I don't see any hope! Trapped by circumstances, there seemed to be precious little left to hang one's hopes on. Fun activities, intriguing ethnic restaurants, jovial outings, jaunty international trips, even simple things like a carton of soymilk had all vanished overnight to be replaced with heat, isolation, uncertainty, and crisis after crisis. I had depleted my emotional resources long ago, as I stood frozen in the pasta aisle in the grocery store, unable to make a simple decision as to which pasta to buy because THERE WAS NO CHEAP PASTA ANYMORE. 

I compared my month in sunny, though smoky, California with my dreary life in Lebanon and my soul shriveled up inside. Two more years of this seemed impossible. Even counting down the days seemed endless. Then after this, there were 6 more years of enslavement to the system as indentured servants. 8 more years. 8 more years struggling to find a speck of hope; an eyelash of purpose; a spot of joy. 

This life is taking all my energy just to survive. So don't be surprised if I retreat from all responsibilities and from most of life. I'm just trying to manage. Trying to find a reason for trust. Because this faith? It's brittle and fragile as century-old parchment from Pharaoh's tomb. 

He tears me down on every side till I am gone; He uproots my hope like a tree. ~Job 19:10