The afternoon sunlight filtered through the blinds as I slid out of the wrong side of bed, trying not to disturb the little one snoozing on my pillow. She fell asleep quickly, after a morning of attitude and drama. Some days it seems like she has all the emotions of a grown woman in a three-year-old body.
I headed to the bathroom to wash the morning off and tried to decompress two months of stress in ten minutes (it didn't work).
Motherhood is hard. Give of yourself, without feeding yourself, and eventually you'll have nothing left to give.
All my complaints hit the cold walls of the shower and bounced back, echoing until they multiplied into more than I could bear.
The tile obviously wasn't listening. So I lifted my pain to the One who always listens, even when what hurts is something under which only this foolish heart would buckle.
Good Friday. If I'm called to lay my self down and offer grace and peace to my children as a sacrifice to Him, how small is that gift compared to the Gift? The day that the Son was put to trial and executed, when His creation turned its back on Him is called good. Good for us. He loved us first, before there was time and before we realized that we are incomplete.
I'm learning that my sacrifice of praise is good to His ears, and good to my soul.
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We celebrated the Resurrection yesterday. Today is a fresh start. He Is Risen.
(I also got 7 hours of sleep last night, and made it to work out this morning at 5am. A fresh start indeed.)
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