Recently on Threads I saw the question “What is an adult problem you weren’t prepared for?”

The first thing that came to my mind was it never stops. It’s one thing after another after another after another, always. The mundane things don’t stop, like bills and laundry and packed lunches. But it’s also the big things like sickness, death, debt, the future. We’ve somehow designed systems that keep us running, and the only way we can stop is by jumping out. Nothing ever stops. It won’t stop for your husband’s illness, for your mental breakdown, or so your kids remain innocent just a little longer. The only real way to get a moment’s rest is if we intentionally stop and seek it. I didn’t respond to the OP, but it did get me thinking about the situation I was in.

My husband is currently in Barcelona for a work trip. The day he landed in Spain, a virus that I had caught somewhere took me down hard. While he was off enjoying jamón ibérico, I was shivering, miserable, and without my favorite person around to comfort me. My throat was sore from coughing incessantly, my nose was somehow clogged and runny at the same time, and my fevers were hitting 40. I was constantly falling asleep because my head was so heavy. He was sending me photos of beautiful Barcelona, but I only had enough energy to say “yay” before passing out into a flublivion (eh? eh? You like it?). Parenting while delirious with fever is not fun, to say the least.

So there it was again, the feeling of everything just being so relentless. It didn’t help that our bedroom ceiling was being repaired so my kids and I were squeezing together in my son’s room. Thankfully, my parents are here to carry the burden with me, or else I wouldt dissolve into nothingness. We eventually found a sleeping arrangement that allowed me to shiver under a blanket by myself for a couple of days. I know it seems a little dramatic for the stupid flu. But as I held the tissue against my son’s nose which had randomly started bleeding, I couldn’t help but feel like I was being hit by a hundred little painful pellets. Through it all, nothing stops. These feelings started to well up from inside me like a rip current, coming from under seemingly peaceful waters, threatening to pull me away from shore and drown me.

Rips are relentless too, like adulthood. It’s a powerful channel of water that pulls debris and people, very quickly and confusingly, out into deep water. You know there’s a rip when waves are breaking on two sides but there is none in the middle, or the water is discolored because of sand being disturbed. If you do find yourself in a rip, there are a few ways to help you get free. Staying calm is on the top of the list. Then you can either let yourself go with the flow and hopefully the current takes you to a sand bank. You can also swim parallel to the beach until you can get out of its pull. But never swim directly to the beach, because you are not stronger than the current. It will tire you, pull you in, and drown you.

So because we are in our Character Development Era (but aren’t we always?), I forced myself to pause and confront my feelings. I knew I was sad, because getting sick always makes me sad, but I knew I had complicated feelings about a couple other things too. Things that I knew, if I didn’t process them, could become an echo chamber of self-pity and pride in the corner of my mind. I could see the sand getting disturbed under the water, the waves crashing on each side; I knew if I kept walking toward it, I’d step right into a spiritual rip current.

Many times I’ve willfully walked right into the water, even if I knew I’d have one heck of a time trying to get out. I’d let the current of negative emotions take me and slam my head against the sharp corals of my thoughts. I embraced the feeling of losing air, indulged that familiar feeling of tightness in my chest. Those were the days when I didn’t know how to regulate my emotions, and the sad, blue feelings were familiar friends that I understood well. I lived by the saying, “better the devil you know”, and that included negative thoughts, people, or situations.

Thankfully, this time around, I recognized the signs before I fell into my usual patterns. My feet were in the water, and I began to feel the familiar tug of the current. But I took a step back, and then another. In between coughing fits, I chose to pray out loud instead. I spoke my feelings unabashed towards a God who always listens. I surrendered even the unpleasant, unkind feelings. I asked for forgiveness, and then I asked for clarity, and then I asked for strength to always trust in His perfect will. I prayed for the capacity to sing praises and worship even during the uncomfortable days. I admitted to my frailty and humanness, and thanked Him for His grace.

Did my feelings go away immediately? No, but they stopped becoming the loudest noise in my head. Once you’re in the water, prayer is like swimming parallel to the beach to escape the rip. It’s not instant, and you’ll still feel the pull, but you have to just keep going until you get further and further away from the thing that’s going to make you drown. Worship is like going with the flow and just letting your body go with the current until you find yourself back on shore. It still involves effort on our end, but no longer by our own strength, but by the beautiful grace of a God that would never let us drown. Life may be relentless, but God’s love is even more so. We must remember to tap into that source even before we begin to fight the waves, lest our aching limbs and fragile hearts fail us.

There are a few more days before my husband gets home, but the repairs in our bedroom are finally done. After some deep cleaning, we get to move back in tomorrow, and if all goes well I will go to sleep on my own bed. Things will look familiar again, especially since I’ve finally gotten over the worst part of whatever virus I got. I still can’t laugh too much because it makes me break out into coughing fits, but at least I can think straight now. As always, the sand will settle under the water as it calms, and the rip current resolves itself, back out to sea. I will enjoy the view of its blue green hue and the song of its waves as I sit out on the shore, planted firmly and surely, on solid ground.