Sometimes you have to break.
You’ve been running, pushing, pulling, struggling to do all the things.
Sometimes when you are trying to give your 7 month old baby Advil (because he’s a teething monster) and he spits it everywhere, you break. You throw the syringe and scream, thereby scaring the other baby who was half asleep. Cue all the crying. Most of it from you.
And you’re tired. So unbelievably tired.
Now your throat hurts and you feel stupid. And the baby still isn’t asleep and it’s almost midnight. You stomp around, cleaning up random stuff to burn off steam. The husband is, understandably, concerned.
All you want is just a minute to breathe. Space to think. You’re drowning in all the things. Your inner monologue is running about a mile a minute and it’s a war zone. The running tally of things that need to be done is tick tick ticking away. You’re still drowning.
Or maybe that’s just me…
I’m stretched thin. I’m exhausted. And somehow I’m feeling guilty because I’m simply not strong enough to do all the things. I am blessedly broken and so very weak.
I fight it. I can solve these problems on my own. I’m a slow learner. But after a night of talking and an emotional hangover, I know I need Him.
I cling to His word. I cry out to Him.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28.
Rest, sweet rest.