This year, my excuse is a little more lame - yes, we've had some things going on, but sometimes it's just ordinary "life stuff" that just wears me out. But never mind the reason: it all came down yesterday.
Funny how fatigue is. When I am tired, my mind immediately goes around truth, and directly down the path of self-pity. Maybe it's a mom thing. Every little thing becomes a personal affront: If they truly cared about me they would pick up their stinkin' socks (papers, trash, water glasses, etc). I just want five minutes to get this done. Must I be interrupted again? Why do you insist on bucking me when I ask you to do something that is not difficult?
It sounds so silly when I write it down - how can I let such normal, everyday, this-is-why-kids-need-us-parents (or this-is-why-parents-need-God) stuff get under my skin?
I suppose that's what makes it such a mental battle...my perspective becomes suddenly and ridiculously distorted. Somehow I start thinking that since my plans and dreams aren't panning out the way I think they should (at this very moment), I have a right to be angry. Since my children (husband, house, life) aren't perfect, there must be something wrong.
I begin to think that it all depends on me. And, of course, I'm failing. The photo albums. The bills. The PTA function. That recurring character issue. The junk drawer. I shouldn't have said that to her. The party I should really be planning. I need to back up the computer. The special moment I missed. Africa. Driver's ed. The weeds. Kindergarten. Work. I forgot to mail that card. Church. The garage. Blog. Husband. Those other junk drawers. The junk closet. Did that puppy just dig in my garden?
Ack! I either need a good wallop upside the head, or I need so call my sister!
I decided the latter would be less painful and probably more productive. So yesterday I called Rachel Anne. I let it all, out on the phone in the Walmart parking lot; she said "uh-huh" a lot (she's done this a time or two before, so she knows the drill).
Somehow, by the end of our conversation, I was looking at things a little differently. Yes, there were definitely some blessings I'd, um, overlooked.
Oh, yeah. That's the other part of fatigue-self-pity-party that gets me: I forget to be thankful.
Thankful that my house is messy because I have five healthy children, food to feed them with, and clothing to clothe them with. That their struggles are becoming more complex because they are maturing. That my life is crazy-busy because it is full of purpose and meaning. That that man is a gift to me. I forget to be thankful that God is the one who all-knowingly assigns my portion and my cup (Psalm 16:5).
You mean He hasn't forgotten me? That He hears me, even in my moments of less-than-clarity? You mean (gasp!) He might have orchestrated - purposefully and lovingly - what appears to be chaos (to me) for a REASON?
I got some good sleep last night, but that was just the icing on the cake.
Yep, I had already found my rest. I just needed a little reminder.
My soul finds rest in God alone;
my salvation comes from him.
He alone is my rock and my salvation;Psalm 62:1-2
he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.