Even though the fig trees have no blossoms, and there are no grapes on the vines; even though the olive crop fails, and the fields lie empty and barren; even though the flocks die in the fields, and the cattle barns are empty, yet I will rejoice in the Lord!  I will be joyful in the God of my salvation! The Sovereign Lord is my strength! He makes me as surefooted as a deer, able to tread upon the heights. (Habakkuk 3:17-19 NLT)
I hear the cry of Habakkuk here because it often echoes my own.  There are never ending lists of “even though…” running through my own mind.  There are days when I can see the writing on the wall and doomsday is smeared in indelible ink.  Habakkuk could see this to, famine was coming, drought was coming, trees would be empty, livestock would shrivel than die.  The land of Judah would be reduced to emptiness and he still had the courage to utter “Even though…”
I have days when I feel like my life blossomed out of emptiness.  When, what I have has been eked out of the hard by the blood of my fingernails, crusted with the clay of not enough.  Those are the days when “not enough” becomes a mantra, a beat that thrums right alongside my anxiety.  With every meal preparation, every trip in the car with the gas gauge perilously sliding toward empty, every time I wonder whether or not the worn seat on my jeans will make it through another day before splitting open.  All of it screams there is “not enough”
I think of the days that I stand defiant and shake my fist at God and yell about my emptiness.  I scream against the drought of my own harvest, the corners of my field left with little to glean.  I  flail my arms and question whether or not I am living in the middle of the cruelest joke.
How does one marvel at a Creator when living in a cracked-up, dry and desert life?   When it seems as if my very being is bending low and succumbing to the dissatisfaction that has become a daily struggle and my words of thanksgiving lay fallow?
My life is filled with “not enough” when what I really want to be living, what I really want the mantra of my day to be is “even though.” 
Even though.
This is the refrain my soul longs to sing.
Even though, Lord, even though…
Even though my doubt and fear make me lose joy’s breath.
Even though the sink is full of caked on breakfast and the counters covered in crumbs.
Even though there are days when marriage is hard and it scrapes and bleeds.
Even though mothering leaves me exhausted.
Even though I feel as if You are further away than what You truly are.
Even though…
“… yet I will rejoice in The Lord!”
Did you catch that small word – YET?
This small and seemingly innocuous word rises up like a tender shoot, rises up right out of the desert. This three letter word is hope, it’s where joy resides and waters the ground of not enough.
Yet – moves mountains and gives me the sure-footedness of a deer.
Yet – burns the truth of His sovereignty into my doubt.
Three letters that silence “not enough”.  Three letters that have me seeing God’s open handed gift and keeps me kneeling in His grace.

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