A Snapshot

A quick snapshot of my life:

I'm sitting in my comfy green chair, cruising the web. Listening to music. Sippin' my coffee.

Ty and Griff are playing tennis on the Wii while Michael and Brody cheer them on. There is much laughing and jumping and screaming and high fiving. I am smiling.

Maggie and Gracie are playing a game on the internet. Laughing at each other. Getting along. I am relieved.

My packing for the beach is almost done. My laundry is done. My supper is laid out. Addison is coming for pot roast. Dane is house/cat/dog-sitting while we are gone. I am happy.

It's funny how different I feel today as opposed to Friday. I want to say that I wish every day was like today... but without the crappy days, I wouldn't really appreciate it. I guess I should just enjoy it. I am grateful.

Struggle

This is a post I wrote quite a while back but never published. Obviously the moment I was having has passed but it's still an honest expression of what was going on in me at the time. Thought I'd share...





Why the disconnect? Do I really give off the vibe of being unhappy and overwhelmed? Is it not okay to express pain in those moments when I do feel that way? Just because I have moments of feeling stressed out does not mean that I feel that way all the time.

I have noticed that when I feel the heaviness and weight of duty there is something askew. Something is out of line. I shouldn't feel burned out. I shouldn't grow weary of doing good. But there are times when it seems that there is no other option but to extend myself to the point of discomfort. That other people just expect more and more of me the more I give. That they give no thought to the fact that I am tired.

Where is that line? And what happens when there is no other person that I can confide in? When I feel absolutely alone in the struggle? What then?

Do I drop everything? Leave people hanging out to dry? Or maybe realize that I have complete freedom to fail. And people will be disappointed in me. And let down by me. And maybe even forced to take some of my responsibilities.

And all the while I recognize that I do all this to myself. I want others to help me, I expect it. But I don't always ask for it. And when I work and work and work and then forget something or don't do it right, it wounds me to have it pointed out. And it makes me angry because the person pointing it out usually is the one that always leaves it up to me to handle things. Tuesday morning quarterback.

Oh, my sinful, pride filled heart. It burns in my chest. It chokes the life out of my relationships. It isolates me and whispers evil in my ear.