Weary...it describes very well how I'm feeling. Every now and then I get a glimpse of what it might be like to not be worn out all the time, but those are fleeting and few. Even as we make progress in our house, slowly reclaiming areas left unattended for the last year and a half, not as important as comforting infants traumatized by health challenges they don't understand or preschool girls terrified by a world they can't control and don't feel safe in.
Everywhere I turn, it seems, something needs attention. If little ones aren't clinging to my ankles, big girls are pulling on my arms. Everyone wants a piece of me, but there aren't very many pieces left. Yet, the challenges continue.
Tonight, I noticed water on the floor in the laundry room. After closer inspection, it turns out a seal inside the door of my (relatively) new front loading washing machine has a big tear in it, allowing water to streak down the front, puddling before it gets to the floor drain.
Earlier today, I was feeling pretty good; most of the tasks on my list (from the day before) had been checked off, big projects accomplished; I was going into the evening with a little bit of energy. Then I noticed the washer. Suddenly all the wind left my sails and I was completely worn out.
God may have quite a sense of humor, but when I pictured streams in the desert, I certainly didn't picture streams of water coursing down the face of my washing machine as I trudged through my personal desert experience. Somehow, I'm not laughing. My mother always said that life would feel better in the morning. Maybe by tomorrow morning, life will feel better and I will be laughing. Time will tell...