You know, that kind of soul weary tired.
I'm tired of caring so much.
I'm tired of worrying about my children.
I'm tired of meeting every little need of my precious family.
I'm tired of the violence and hatred in this world.
I'm tired of wondering if this world is going to be a safe place for my children.
I'm tired of people who have a constipated sense of humor. Lighten up already! If we don't have the relief of humor, how do we survive? Laughter is good medicine.
But I digress.
Every woman goes through those times of feeling under appreciated and used. I'm having one of those times. It's lasted, oh, approximately a year. Give or take.
Could it possibly be because I have a 1 year old? Because that first wonderful, but life, time, energy, and mind sucking year is barely over? I dunno. All I know is that I have a 1 year old who routinely pulls himself up on my skirt, grabs my leg, and proceeds to scream for however long it takes to break me. This usually happens when I'm in the kitchen trying to meet a deadline. But Sunday mornings and any other time when I need every limb free to get ready to go somewhere are also great times to find my extra appendage firmly attached.
Could it be that I'm so busy that I can't keep up with everything? But for real. Tomatoes don't wait for a better day. Nor does corn. Or beans. Or nieces getting married. Or the lawn. Or school. And let's be realistic, the bathroom needs to be cleaned oftener than once a month. Just sayin'.
Am I feeling tired because my girls feel the need to pick at and badger each other endlessly?
Day. After. Blessed. Day. (Pray for us. We are works in progress.)
My hubby is busy. Very busy. I feel a bit neglected by him. Most all of his time and energy is thrown into farming and the children. I sometimes feel a bit left behind and more like a mother hen than a wife. It's not really a good feeling.
Soul suckingly tired of it all. (Strangely, while I'm tired of it all, I'm also keenly aware of just how incredibly blessed I am to have children and a husband and material things. Wierd huh.)
God has been gently lifting my chin and telling me to look up at Him.
You know, I sing God's praises and I proclaim that He is enough. But will I choose it?
Will I chose to find my worth in Him? Can I hang on to the promise that I am valuable when I really just feel like an old pack mule?
If my children never appreciate anything that I've done for them, can I still look up and bless my Creator?
If my husband never finds time to date me or forgets to compliment and encourage my heart, will I still choose to remember that God loves me and His appreciation and love is enough?
Will I allow Him to fill my every need for love, attention, and appreciation? Because He's really the only One who can fill me to the top. But I must choose it.
This is where words become reality. Can I really believe in God and trust that He sees and cares?
I choose to shut out my disappointment and disillusionment and lay my expectations at His feet.
I choose to allow Him to fill my every need.
I choose to believe that His favor is enough. And there I must rest.
