I’m on my way to Summit in Kentucky. I’m emotionally exhausted-the perfect place for God to speak and renew. I’ll be helping out at the blogger meet-up, speaking on a panel about advocating as a busy mom and representing Mercy House. I’ll share more with you in the next couple of days.
The last few weeks have been hard. A friend emailed me these words “You are doing mighty, dangerous work, and he’s got you on his radar and you can count on us to be your prayer warriors. Jesus ever lives to make intercession for us, and our voices will join His, and our Father hears.” I appreciate your prayers-Maureen appreciates them, too. They are making a difference.
After I walked my youngest into her preschool class, a teacher asked me how Maureen was doing.
I didn’t know what to say. A few sentences explaining her grief seemed trite. “Please pray” was all I could manage, remembering the day before when Maureen and I stared at each other over Skype and watched each other cry.
Sometimes there just aren’t words for the aching of the soul.
And then she said, “I’ve been wanting to ask you: How do you go about your every day life with such a heavy burden? Raising kids, your family…knowing that so many suffer.”
Tears welled. Spilling over.
“I don’t handle it very well,” I said. “I struggle.”
I told her of my own 4 year old who refused dinner, whining and complaining about the choices. Half an hour before, I read about a 4 year old, starving to death, unable to walk with swollen, worm-ridden feet.
Struggle
I told her of the painful heaviness that comes from seeing extreme poverty at such a personal level coupled with the ultimate gladness that comes from loving, living and learning with my husband and precious children. Sorrow and joy and I’ve forgotten how compartmentalize; it all runs together, the laughter and tears.
Struggle
I told her how I’ve forgotten how to be carefree.
I swiped tears and remembered my place in her classroom. I mumbled an apology. She said kindly, “Now I know how to pray for you.”
I walk away, too broken to even be embarrassed.
I think of all the things I didn’t say: How unwelcome tears fall when least expected, how satan pummels me with doubt, how fear suffocates me and how inadequacy is a constant companion, how I fight bitterness.
How I carry a deep, abiding sadness that is hard to shake. The knowing is almost unbearable. How I try to balance this online space that I love between easy words and hard ones like these.
Back at home, I find a place, the one that beckons me to knees. I know what I need to do when the burden gets too heavy.
I give it to Him.
He gives us a glimpse into His heart, broken for His people. But when it becomes too much, He lovingly says,
Come to me all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. Matthew 11:28-30
And today, you may carry a heavy burden. One that suffocates and closes in–an illness, a sick child, a lost job, unspoken words you only utter to Him….
Give it to God. His shoulders are broad enough to bare the weight.
He cares for you.
“The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit” — Psalm 34:18
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I’m so thankful for the support of my real life community group and blog friends like Maegan for their help! Maegan lives in Louisville, Kentucky and set up the Mercy House table for me! Y’all should read her blog.