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'Tis But A Season

I haven't thrown up since I was 6. It was first grade and a typical stomach bug, with a quick and uneventful recovery. But to this day, I remember how I felt, laying on the bathroom floor and repeatedly praying "God, please don't make me throw up ever again…"

I'm sure most people have said that exact prayer, because throwing up just plain sucks.

But ever since that day in first grade, I have had an overwhelming fear of throwing up. And I don't mean the typical dread or even hatred of throwing up that most people experience. I mean a true fear of anything that could possibly make me feel nauseous or cause me to get sick.

I'd do just about anything to not throw up, ever again.

And so far, I'm doing alright. I've still had my bouts with stomach viruses, possible food poisoning, and even pregnancy—but I haven't thrown up since that day in first grade.

Is it will-power? Is it a mental game? Is it a physical incapability? Or is it just coincidence?

I don't know. And I guess it doesn't really matter.

That's not the point of this blog post.

There's this feeling you get—and I think everyone has experienced it—when you're forced to accept your fate of vomiting. You know it's going to happen, you can feel it coming, but you just have to wait. You can't stop it. And then it happens, you throw up.

I had that same feeling, except not in relations to feeling nauseous.

It was about a month ago and I was showering before bed. Suddenly, out of the blue, I had an overwhelming feeling that something bad was about to happen. I couldn't pinpoint it. It almost felt like deja vu—I had experienced this before, but couldn't remember when.

I just had this sense. Something bad is about to happen.

Did this moment have anything to do with throwing up? Absolutely not. But that overwhelming feeling of dread, that quick moment of desperation—is the only comparison I can think of to describe the way I felt while in the shower.

I called and checked on my family and was immediately reassured that everyone was safe and healthy. There was nothing to worry about, everything was okay.

The fear I felt could have very well just been anxiety. I'll be the first to admit that I sometimes worry and stress about things a bit excessively. The logical part of me knows it was just anxiety. But at the same time, a small part of me wonders if it was real. That part of me wonders if God was perhaps mentally preparing me for hardship.

I don't know.


I now lay in bed with a mind full of racing thoughts. I have so many things to do, several lists I need to write, important people I've yet to update… and I'm just so overwhelmed.

The past month has been nothing short of chaos: More than one illness passed around through our family, a trip to Children's Urgent Care, traveling, home projects being completed, and hectic work schedules… it seemed to be one thing after another. I couldn't keep up.

And then, questioning my marriage. Resigning from two jobs that I absolutely love. Deciding to move states to be near family, in less than two week's time span.

Sweet girl at a quick Urgent Care visit.

Suddenly, my mind is full of questions. What does my future look like? Do we need to sell the house? Where will we stay? When will we buy another house? Where will we work? What field of nursing do I want to practice? How do I activate my lapsed KY nursing license? What documents do I need to change my drivers license? How will Avery get health insurance? How do we explain this to our TN family? It goes on and on.

That feeling comes back. The right-before-you-throw-up feeling. But instead of fearfully expecting something bad to happen, I start to worry that this might be it—a mental breaking point. The stress starts to weigh on me. I'm carelessly dancing at the edge of a cliff, just flirting with the idea that I seriously might lose it.

I don't have a plan. I don't have a job. I won't own my home anymore. The nursery we worked so hard on—won't get slept in anymore. My life as I know it, no longer has a sense of normalcy.

I question how I'll get through this.

I've prayed constantly for peace and guidance. And once again—in the shower—I had an overwhelming feeling, but this time a feeling of safety. I could breathe again.

I remembered two things.

The first:

Not once, has God ever asked me to figure things out. He has NOT ONCE ever asked me to control the situation, or try to minimize the damage. He has NOT ONCE ever expected me to have it all together.

My fear of failure was crippling me.

That was all me. I was the one putting pressure on myself to figure out the future. I was the one adding weight onto my shoulders. I'm the one desperately grasping for a sense of control, but why? Why am I doing this to myself?

My muscles relaxed. The tension in my shoulders left. I closed my eyes and just—exhaled. It was a moment of sweet relief.

In that moment, as I just let go, my mind stopped. I—Meagan—just had to stop. I had forgotten who my refuge is. And even though people break my trust and hurt me, God has not. How did I ever forget that?

The second: a quote from a college roommate.

It was a Post-It note taped to the bathroom mirror. I saw it everyday of sophomore year, but never has it had such meaning. She wrote:

'Tis but a season.

That's it. 'Tis but a season. And I know—this season, too shall pass. This fills my heart with hope for the future. Instead of worrying what my life is going to look like after so much unexpected change, I have a confidence that it will get better. This season of uncertainty and anxiety, is not forever. It will end, soon.

As Winter is wrapping up, the clouds disappear and the days get warmer. I get to do yard work and enjoy the sunshine, because Spring is finally approaching. And just like this storm in my life, it is only a season. And seasons change.


This blog post is different. It isn't self-help. It's not to give you advice. It's not to encourage you to use your essential oils or remind you to eat nutritious foods.

This blog post is for me. It's a reminder—for myself—that it's okay to take a step back. Even though everything feels so uncertain right now, it is safe to give up the need for control. The future isn't mine to worry about. My future is already written out, and it's not my responsibility to have it all together. I am loved by someone with a greater good in mind—one that I cannot even comprehend yet.

Until next time,


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