And still felt unproductive.
Still a list of assignments to complete.
I lay in bed,
brain whirring, thoughts spinning,
and the all too familiar routine
of finding and magnifying fault and failure.
Long and hard.
Desperate for relief.
But sometimes prayer doesn't usher relief.
Sometimes prayer just reminds me to whom I belong,
and that belonging isn't conditioned by my worthiness.
I woke up this morning
and not much had changed.
I wanted to keep my eyes shut.
As if squeezing them hard closed would keep the day at bay.
I wanted to put the pillow over my head and disappear.
Just yesterday, my daughter was busy showing herself fully alive.
And today, I just want to curl up and shut out the world.
I don't feel ready to face my day. my responsibilities. my duties.
In the economy of motherhood, I don't get to barter.
Breakfast still needs to be prepared.
Children still need care.
School still needs to get done.
Lunchtime will still come.
PB&J will need to be made.
Life still needs to be lived.
And even on days like today,
when hope is hard to access,
hope still shouts - albeit from a distance -
that breathing means life
and life means purpose
and I have a choice.
So today, I will lean hard into the One who knows me best
and loves me most
and ask Him to help me choose well.
To choose life.
And today, life will look like:
breathing in and breathing out
taking one moment at a time
celebrating phonics victories
PB & J crusts positioned into a square
finishing a food chain display
praying for the people in the Philippines
the living room transformed into parking lot for toy cars
siblings playing cooperatively
biting my tongue that might be dripping with sarcasm
thinking the best of others, especially the ones with which I live.
And me? I’m a mess.
I’m nothing and have nothing:
make something of me.
You can do it; you’ve got what it takes—
but God, don’t put it off.
-Psalm 40:17 (The Message)