Sometimes life just wears us out, right? When we have to climb mountains of stress or sorrow, we just get tired. Hard stuff can wear us out and leave us feeling powerless.
But, sometimes our most vulnerable tired comes after we have stood on a mountain of success and seen God’s power.
Have you ever felt that kind of exhausted – the kind of soul-tiredness that shows up on the heels of a race well run?
It’s Sunday night and for the first time in 28 years, I am wandering around my kitchen trying to figure out what to do tomorrow morning. I don’t need to wake up a child for school like I have done for the past two decades, every Monday morning.
I don’t have to check the fridge to think ahead about what I will make for breakfast tomorrow. I don’t need to pull out a lunch box and make sure it is clean and free of Friday’s sticky leftovers. I don’t need to go into a boy’s room and check on his homework or his heart.
I don’t need to go ask anyone about their schedule for the coming week so I can plan transportation or meals. I don’t need to load the dishwasher so my kitchen is not such a mess at 6:00 AM because I don’t have to get up at 6:00 AM and there are only two coffee cups in there anyway.
It was only yesterday that I held my firstborn. It was only yesterday he started kindergarten. It was only yesterday that his little brother was born. It was only yesterday that we listened to Adventures in Odyssey. It was only yesterday that I snuck a paper cup full of Goldfish and Cheez-Its onto the top bunk because he couldn’t sleep. It was only yesterday that our house was full of the pings and buzzes of Mario and Pokemon. It was only yesterday that we were at orthodontists and soccer practice and debate tournaments and orchestra concerts and parent/teacher conferences and graduations.
It was only yesterday, but yesterday now feels like a thousand years ago.
My hand was on the door handle, ready to open the stall and leave the bathroom. But then I heard familiar voices and stood perfectly still. The Sunday worship service was about to start, and two women from the church were standing at the sink talking about our pastor while washing their hands. They thought they were alone. Their comments about him were small and mean. They took turns criticizing the pastor’s sermon, his tie, and even his hair. I was so angry I could barely breathe.
That pastor? He was my dad.
For God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but of power and love and discipline. 2 Timothy 1:7 NIV
Well, sister, that is some good news, right? Now, if I could only live it out!
I often lack confidence. Timidity sometimes gets the best of me. And, I bet you know exactly what I’m talking about. Timidity, fear, and a lack of confidence aren’t what our Father gives His daughters.
When I was pregnant with our first son, I thought that baby would never be born! I was so late delivering him that I actually dreamed I was an old woman — gray hair and all — still pregnant, panicking in my doctor’s office, begging him to do something!
Weird dream, I know. The point is, near the end of a pregnancy, a mama feels worn out. It’s easy to feel like the whole thing is lasting just a little too long, and that’s even when the baby comes on his due date!
Sixteen very long, swollen, puffy, unattractive, exhausting days after we expected our son Clayton to be born, the doctor used a steady stream of Pitocin to coax him out of the womb and into the world. I was so relieved!
Funny how those late arrivals seem to take their time and run late even when they’re teenagers. Too bad a Pitocin drip doesn’t work on them!
There is a reason a baby is supposed to stay in his mama’s womb for 40 weeks — he needs that time to grow, develop and be nourished. A baby born prematurely is at risk and a baby who is very late in arrival is at risk, too.
I admit it — the only way I got through high school math was because of Todd Williams! Almost every morning before class I was in a state of panic until I found him in the hall and begged him for help with my homework. I gave him gum and candy and a thousand thanks and he tried his best to help me survive algebra. I squeaked by with a C and I give Todd the credit for lifting me to the level of my glowing mediocrity.
It’s not any better today. If I have to count, I still use my fingers and break out into a sweat if one of my kids asks me a math question from their homework.
Here’s what is totally weird — I can do retail math. Give me a clearance rack in Macy’s and I morph into a mathematical genius — I can tell you exactly how much that cute blouse costs if it is 20% off the lowest price with an additional 15% off, subtracting the $17 from my gift card — in less than five seconds! It’s freaky. I am like a living, breathing retail calculator!
But, there is a math I am learning now while I am in the glorious middle of my life — a math I am trying to get really good at by doing it every day. I’m learning to number my days.
Do you number your days?
