It's a curious thing how my energy and enthusiasm for just about anything is not consistent. And even more curious is that it surprises me every time I hit low ebb. My low ebb times piss me off a little, frankly. I don't like the procrastinating lump I become who wants to pull into a shell, turtle-like. Doubt and darkness are not fun. They feel like death.
But here's the strange thing--nothing good in my life has happened without being preceded by a low ebb. Ever. The day before my husband proposed, for example, I wrote a close friend that I was losing hope the relationship was going anywhere. (She teases me about this now.)
You see, low ebb times are when real growth actually happens. Life begins in the dark. Tulip bulb awakens under the snow, egg and sperm fuse in the womb's deep, seed sends its first searching roots into the lightless soil. It is a great mystery. Divine.
Low ebbs don't end until I give up and stop fighting them, stop pretending that I am my own god who can make my dreams happen the way I want when I want. When I admit I am inadequate for the task God's given me, he never fails to show up. And some strange, new flower I've never seen before, never anticipated, begins to bloom in the murkiest spot imaginable.
Do you fight the low-ebb times? How might surrendering to doubt be an act of faith? What strange blossoms have grown for you in and through a dark time?