. . . and then some more . . . More life. More Jesus.

Monthly Archives: December 2011

You are browsing the site archives by month.

When I am Spent

They lie on the couch and the chair with their blankets and pillows as the fireplace fan spreads its warm all over the living room.  My children are ill, but it hasn’t caught up with me yet, so I empathize and make toast and kiss foreheads and let them watch The Disney Channel for days.  Sure, I have lots to do, but proirities take over and I do what must be done, amazed at the love God has granted me to lovingly serve my sick kiddos.

But that was yesterday, and the day before and the two days before that.  And now I’m tired and the compassion wanes as the fevers endure.  This morning, I wake up and find it difficult to serve.  I see the demands and grow grumpy with them.  The compassion feels gone. Haven’t I served my time?  Haven’t I seen enough Phineas and Ferb?

I climb the stairs again to grab another pillow and plead with God to please help me.  Help me love them.  Help me serve them.  Help me show my kids how much You love them with the grace I impart even now when I don’t feel like it.  Especially now when I don’t feel like it.

And the rubber meets the road right here in my hallway.  As I beg the everlasting, Almighty God Who lives in me, for the strength to just get the pillow, He unveils a truth to my soul and whispers a reminder about whose strength I need.  Whose energy it is that will get me up the stairs and back down again, to love and nurture the broken-for-now.  And I realize that right here, today, is where the true Christ-in-me fortitude will be unwrapped, the joy that is Him alone.  Here’s where my weak is His strong.  I can’t know the true strength of His might unless I realize mine is not strength at all.

So now I wait as I unwrap His promise to be faithful and good and to supply all my needs.  I trust Him for that strength and I love my kids as best I can and I pray for His joy to be mine even as I gather crumpled-up tissues and endless dirty dishes.  And I thank Him for the reminder of unwrapping a Tuesday gift with my friends at Chatting at the Sky.

The Paralysis of Overwhelmed

The overwhelmed screams loudly as the crazy of the season catches up with me.  I can’t shake it.  Even in the midst of a freed-up morning, I feel paralyzed by all that I have to do.  I get my kids to school and return home to the dishwasher full of clean plates and bowls and silverware and the sink that overflows with their dirty counterparts.

Where do I start?

I ask myself emphatically and literally spin around in my kitchen hoping for a sign.  I have so much to do that I don’t even know how to pick where to start.  My mind spins too.  But somehow even in the spinning, I feel a sort of whisper in the deep innermost places of where my thoughts come from, and I remember the quiet that Almighty God offers.  The peace that He gives.

I see my Bible on the table, but I don’t reach for it.  Not yet.  Instead, I go straight to my knees.  My face, actually.  Right in the middle of the very minutes I have to get even one thing crossed off my list, I lay on the floor and tell God the Lord of my life, that He is just that.  He remembers.  It was me that needed reminding.  And the loud overwhelmed quiets down as I ask the Lord of my life to show me what to do, how to do it.

He reminds me that this is His plan afterall.  His hand that has brought me to right here.  This season of my life, this season of the year.  And right there in the middle of my living room floor, He breathes air into the lungs of my soul and whispers away the paralysis and reminds me that He is the Almighty and Sovereign God above all.

I get up off the floor and find my dishes still undone.  But when I see them this time, their effect is quite different.  No almost-swearing or hopeless burden of busyness.  Instead, I can think clearly.  So I make a list and start on the easys and realize that somehow I no longer feel paralyzed.  And just maybe I’ll get something done today.