Some time ago, I made a silent commitment to write nearly every day. It was as though God said to me, "This is your part for now. Practice. Then wait on me for clearer direction."
I love to write, so following His lead hasn't been a burden. Not too concerned about topic, I just wrote from the heart.
But now that I'm forty-something, hormones steal my voice for three or four days a month. Words won't come. Darkness sets in....darker than anything I remember feeling in my twenties or thirties. It's not my circumstances, unfavorable though they are with husband still underemployed (working lots of hours for low wages).
I ruined another whole chicken the other day. I thought I turned the crockpot on low in the morning, as is my custom. But the knob got caught just before the low slot; it never actually engaged. A couple of the kids were sick that day, so I spent more time cuddling and less time in my kitchen.
Can you believe I never noticed Mr.Chicken sitting there, cold and uncooked, until six hours later...at which time he probably contained too much bacteria to be salvaged? My husband really looks forward to chicken, and the kids as well, so I felt horribly inadequate.....though Husband's a dear and never complains.
Can I say the same about my holy, righteous kids? Um...no. They speak their minds.....without any tact, I'm afraid.
Although usually a positive person, on these dark days, I can't think a sunny or organized thought, or do anything right. And the hormone-induced ache in my head won't quit throbbing, no matter how much OTC medicine I swallow (following the label, of course)
It's as though I'm in prison. Trapped and worthless. No fun to be around. A downer for my family.
"Why, Lord? Why must women be so afflicted? Why give me so much responsibility, and then render me useless?"
2 Corinthians 12:10
That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
Dare I say it, but are we women more prone to living in our own strength, rather than relying on our Heavenly Father, who requires our submission?
Do you see it in yourself? Or in your own girls? My girls are so different...so stubborn compared to my boys. They set their jaws, those girls, and it isn't pretty. They're full of sweetness and blessing....don't get me wrong, but it has to be their way, so often.
Looking at pictures of my sweet blessings, and listening to praise music, are two coping mechanisms that help. They allow me to do the next thing.
Make dinner. Smile at a child. Kiss a boo boo. Utter a kind word.
There is always grace. We must wait for the flood of grace. Ride it like a wave. Let it overtake us.
Mary, tired from church the night before, was a teary mess around 2:00 PM today. She told me in her nastiest voice, "No! I'm not taking a nap!"
I scooped her up.....my head aching, I needed a rest anyway.
Lying on the bed with me, she writhed in my arms at first. But I was patient. I planted kisses on her forehead, her hair, her cheeks.
Her contrary body relaxed. Giving in, she pulled me closer, squeezing me. Soon, her eyelids gave in. Her breathing steadied.
I took in her beautiful sleeping face. A picture of peace. Of submission.
This is what God wants from me.
My monthly affliction is my reminder. Surrender. That's what the Christian life requires.
And. it's. so. hard.
I love to write, so following His lead hasn't been a burden. Not too concerned about topic, I just wrote from the heart.
But now that I'm forty-something, hormones steal my voice for three or four days a month. Words won't come. Darkness sets in....darker than anything I remember feeling in my twenties or thirties. It's not my circumstances, unfavorable though they are with husband still underemployed (working lots of hours for low wages).
I ruined another whole chicken the other day. I thought I turned the crockpot on low in the morning, as is my custom. But the knob got caught just before the low slot; it never actually engaged. A couple of the kids were sick that day, so I spent more time cuddling and less time in my kitchen.
Can you believe I never noticed Mr.Chicken sitting there, cold and uncooked, until six hours later...at which time he probably contained too much bacteria to be salvaged? My husband really looks forward to chicken, and the kids as well, so I felt horribly inadequate.....though Husband's a dear and never complains.
Can I say the same about my holy, righteous kids? Um...no. They speak their minds.....without any tact, I'm afraid.
Although usually a positive person, on these dark days, I can't think a sunny or organized thought, or do anything right. And the hormone-induced ache in my head won't quit throbbing, no matter how much OTC medicine I swallow (following the label, of course)
It's as though I'm in prison. Trapped and worthless. No fun to be around. A downer for my family.
"Why, Lord? Why must women be so afflicted? Why give me so much responsibility, and then render me useless?"
2 Corinthians 12:10
That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
Dare I say it, but are we women more prone to living in our own strength, rather than relying on our Heavenly Father, who requires our submission?
Do you see it in yourself? Or in your own girls? My girls are so different...so stubborn compared to my boys. They set their jaws, those girls, and it isn't pretty. They're full of sweetness and blessing....don't get me wrong, but it has to be their way, so often.
Looking at pictures of my sweet blessings, and listening to praise music, are two coping mechanisms that help. They allow me to do the next thing.
Make dinner. Smile at a child. Kiss a boo boo. Utter a kind word.
There is always grace. We must wait for the flood of grace. Ride it like a wave. Let it overtake us.
Mary, tired from church the night before, was a teary mess around 2:00 PM today. She told me in her nastiest voice, "No! I'm not taking a nap!"
I scooped her up.....my head aching, I needed a rest anyway.
Lying on the bed with me, she writhed in my arms at first. But I was patient. I planted kisses on her forehead, her hair, her cheeks.
Her contrary body relaxed. Giving in, she pulled me closer, squeezing me. Soon, her eyelids gave in. Her breathing steadied.
I took in her beautiful sleeping face. A picture of peace. Of submission.
This is what God wants from me.
My monthly affliction is my reminder. Surrender. That's what the Christian life requires.
And. it's. so. hard.
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