Fighting Spirits
Had a very, very tense day today. 

Woke up late cos I was so tired. Rushed for work (feeding balls to small kids for two hours under the heat of 10-12noon sun), rushed for lunch, had a short nap that I didn't want to wake up from, went for my tournament match (played like a sloth but held it together well enough to win), headed back to the Academy.  Had a little time to work on my drops against the wall, stretch a bit, then it was back to work doing summer programme with the kids.  Was tired and assaulted often by too many thoughts and requests for more, better work.  It was frustrating, because there is only so much I can give.  Came back at 10pm to the Bungalows to do check-in with the kids, and just when I thought everything had settled down, someone comes knocking on my door, telling me to check on girls crawling out of their windows into other boys bungalows. 

It's midnight now.  I have a difficult match tomorrow.  Sometimes I do wonder if it's just better to keep it all inside.  Don't talk so much about it.  Silent suffering seems so much better.  That's probably the reason why I don't puncture the air here that much, or that often.  Simply because I don't like that style.  Throughout my life, talking about difficulty has always been akin in my books to complaining.  And I don't like complaining.

I believe in the bigger sum of things, God is slowly teaching me not only to be more resilient, but to lean on His word as the absolute truth in my life.  Namely, 1Cor10:13:

¹³ No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bear it.

When the going gets tough, in my frustration I sometimes ask God "Where are You in all of this?" 

I don't mean to be a pessimist, but sometimes it really is.  Difficult.  It's so difficult I tear on bus rides, thinking about how much I miss my family.  I feel the strain between my shoulders and back from tired muscles and a lack of proper, holistic physio care.  I feel the strain and (literal) hardening of my heart, experiencing vicious office politics in a difficult work environment. 

I feel frustrated that no one seems to care. 

But no, Sarah.

There comes His voice again.

"I care."

And do I believe it? 

Do I really believe that Your grace is enough to tide me through my fears and insecurities and doubts over... well, everything?  How I don't have enough money for more physio, or how I don't have the means to get better care or living over and above the rats crawling above my bungalow unit.  How my mattress is so bad, it probably perpetuates the bad backache that's slowing down my play.  How because I don't pay but play a full barter of work for training with the Academy, at a whim, they can take away 50% of my training for the next two weeks, simply because they don't have enough coaches to feed balls to little summer children.  Yes, just as I'm five weeks away to coming home and in the thick of preparing to play the Singapore Open, they take away 50% of my training, and 2 of the 4 hard court tournaments I was planning to play in prep for the SG Open.  I was so upset when that happened, I was close to tears.

Do I really believe, with all this, that You are still here.  That You are still in control?  That Your grace is more than sufficient?  That you will work all things together for my good.?

To be honest, it takes a lot of guts to let go and say "You know what, Lord?  My feelings don't matter.  You'll make that way for me."  Like Gideon, I don't see it, but I see You. 

And that, is more than enough.