Pry away

It’s been a tough haul these past few weeks, what with packing and moving and sickness (oh my). Yesterday piled on the last couple straws, and I, in desperation and with many tears, broke down in an I-cannot-do-this-any-longer moment. After which I pulled myself together and promptly, well, did all those things I was sure only a second before I couldn’t do. Isn’t that the nature of the job? And not the writing job, sweet boy, but maybe the other stuff I do around here.

What I realize, when this happens, is that I haven’t been relying on God enough, or, if I’m going to be really honest, at all. I recognize this. God has the ultimate strength, the endless energy, the focus and patience and determination to get this done, if I just willingly tap into it. He can carry me in a way that no one else can. Yep. Again, I recognize this. But in practice–in the trenches, so to speak–it’s so much more difficult.

I think of the common platitude: Let go and let God. Okay, sure. But (bear with me for a minute) let go and let God… what? Mop the floors? Change the sheets? Figure out how to put handles on our cabinets without getting any crooked?

I know: pray. Listen. Trust. They are all huge, beautiful, awesome things. Easy things, really. But it’s hard for me to focus on those when there seem to be a billion other things that want to be focused on instead. Or, in my usual fashion, focused on for about two seconds until I get distracted by focusing on something else for two seconds. My pastor had a great moment in his sermon on Sunday that we should be asking ourselves not what God would have us do in general but rather what He would have us do today. Just today. How could I minister to my world today? But this is my ministry, or one of them, to take care of our home and children. And right now, it’s getting the better of me. I feel my fists tightening around that ministry, and maybe that’s the whole point to the platitude. Prying my fingers off one at a time might be the first step to not choking the life out of it.

Of course, God, I might find it a little easier to focus, minister, trust, and serve if I could possibly sleep past 5am. But look–it’s six and the sun is rising, with small children soon to follow. Another day, another opportunity.

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