Tonight after putting the children to bed my husband and I plopped down on the sofa. We didn't turn on our laptops or the television. Instead I laid my head on his chest and said, "I am weary."
Maybe it's the late Summer slump, but this week has kicked my tail. I have dealt with a sick child, a stolen credit card, frustrating customer service debacles, a to do list that is multiplying, children acting like, well, children, hormones, no 'me time.' Nothing Earth-shattering has happened--it's just the stinky stuff of life. Honestly, I haven't handled it well. I have cried. I have yelled. My attitude has been less than stellar and my love tank has been depleted to empty.
I am embarrassed to admit that I am weary. I don't work outside the home. I have had help with childcare. I have a loving family & friends. This is just the 'minor' stuff of life. My flesh taunts me: You should be able to handle this.
But I haven't been praying. I haven't been in small group fellowship since April. I haven't heard a sermon in two weeks. I haven't sang a praise song in days. I haven't opened my Bible in longer than I care to admit.
I am a branch in the Summer heat that is disconnected from my vine. I am starving for sustenance. As I crawled in bed tonight with the word 'weary' resonating in my heart, I was reminded of an old, familiar promise.
“Come to me, all 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 NIV
It is a precious, timely invitation from my Father.