I’ve been overcome with emotions this weekend.
Something from a few months ago resurfaced—something I never expected to become an issue in the first place. Feelings were hurt, and suddenly I found myself trying to navigate something I wasn’t prepared to navigate.
I could tell you the whole story. I could explain my side, defend my intentions, and tell you all the reasons I don’t think we should even be here. But that’s not really the story I want to tell. Although, if I’m being truthful, that’s part of what I’m struggling with.
I’m frustrated that this is even an issue.
There. I said it.
And I don’t quite know what to do with that frustration yet.
During the interaction, I knew I needed to be careful with my words. I kept reminding myself to be kind. Because regardless of how I felt about what was happening, it was clear that people I love were hurting. And I didn’t want my hurt to add to theirs. So I tried to respond with kindness. Not perfectly. Not without emotion. Just intentionally.
It was afterward, when I was left with the jumble of thoughts and feelings, that I prayed.
God, what am I supposed to do with this?
How do I move forward? What am I not seeing? Where do I need humility? Where might I need a boundary? Do I say something more? Do I let it go?
And maybe most honestly: God, what do I do with the fact that I’m angry we’re even here?
I wish I could tell you prayer immediately brought clarity and peace. It didn’t. I’ve spent the last couple of days bouncing between emotions that don’t seem like they should all fit together.
I’m hurt and frustrated.
I’m compassionate toward people I know are hurting.
I’m angry about how we got here.
I’m questioning whether I could have done something differently.
I want to defend myself.
I want to let it go.
I want to fix it.
And, depending on the hour, I also want absolutely nothing to do with it.
Apparently, conflicting emotions don’t politely take turns.
And maybe that’s part of what God is showing me.
Following Jesus doesn’t mean I stop feeling frustrated. Choosing kindness doesn’t mean I have to convince myself that something doesn’t bother me. Having compassion for someone else’s hurt doesn’t mean I immediately understand—or agree with—why they’re hurt.
And prayer isn’t a magic button that makes uncomfortable emotions disappear.
Sometimes prayer is simply bringing all of them to God and saying, Here. I don’t know what to do with these.
That’s where I am right now. I don’t know what moving forward looks like.
Maybe there needs to be another conversation. Maybe there needs to be some space. Maybe there’s something God wants me to see about myself. Maybe there is something I need to release that I’m still gripping pretty tightly.
I don’t know yet.
What I do know is that I don’t want frustration to decide what happens next.
So I’m praying for wisdom before I move.
I’m asking God to show me what is mine to own and what isn’t. To soften my heart without asking me to ignore it. To help me extend grace without abandoning healthy boundaries. And to keep me kind—even when kindness isn’t the emotion that comes most naturally.
Maybe that’s where faith meets real life.
Not when we have everything figured out, but when we’re willing to bring God into the parts we haven’t figured out yet.
Even the frustration.
Especially the frustration.