Every day is the same. Alarm clock dings. Coffee pot gurgles. Weary eyes open. What could I bring that would improve things?

The Hectic Life

The early morning bustle of breakfast, getting dressed, and coaxing my children out of hibernation seems endless. We never wake up early enough. Then we can’t find shoes. Or homework. Or we forgot to turn on the dryer. Anything can be the source of a meltdown. Can’t find a favorite shirt. Cowlicks won’t lie down. Socks are crooked. The dog peed on the floor, and somebody stepped in it. Countless moments of ridiculousness.

Finally, we are all loaded up. Arguing. Fighting. Throwing. Seriously? Why can’t we just get in the car, let me finish my coffee, and drive to school in peace? But no. I’m a continual referee. I feel the frustration rising, but I also know I’m the grown-up. Deep breaths. Calm words.

Drop-off finally happens, and I find myself alone for a few minutes in the car. A deep sigh exits my lungs. Peace. Quiet. But silence only lasts momentarily as my phone beeps with messages and reminders. Call this person. Complete this task. Remember this event. Make more fliers. Email that agency. On and on, my To-Do list grows as the beeps consume my peace.

The Chaotic Life

I make it through the day’s chaos. Time to pick up the kids. Then, sports practice or some other activity. Oh, and I forgot to buy groceries, so a jaunt into town with two children. That never ends well.

We survive the grocery store and make it home. I forgot to lay out the meat for supper. I guess it’s macaroni and fish sticks. Again. The pots are dirty, so I clean up the dishes from last night and unload and reload the dishwasher. As I cook the macaroni, I realize I have no milk.

Homework isn’t happening in the next room, so I redirect my distracted children. Suddenly, I remember the laundry that I didn’t do last night. No one has clean pants for tomorrow. As I walk toward the washer, a disgusting aroma reaches from the trashcan and assaults my nostrils. Why didn’t someone take this out last night?

The smoke alarm goes off because I left the fish sticks in the oven too long. The kids freak out and run outside. The husband walks in and asks me about my day as the dog jumps on me, leaving muddy footprints.

My face says it all, but he’s convinced it’s something he has done. Somehow, we make it through supper after spilling cups of water and trying to teach appropriate table manners. Bath time is next, and there is arguing about who goes first and what happened to towels and washcloths.

Finally, teeth brushing and bedtime arrive. I give hugs and say good night. Then I retreat to the bedroom, hoping to catch some quiet. Without warning, tears leak down my cheeks.

The Peaceful Life

“I have nothing left, God,” I pray in a whisper as my head falls onto the pillow.

Somewhere in my heart, I hear a faint invitation.

Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 

~Matthew 11:28 CSB

“I’ve got nothing to give. No energy. I’m spent.”

Even still, the whisper beckons, “Come. Be with me.”

I dry my eyes and open my Bible.

But you, Lord, are a shield around me, my glory, and the one who lifts up my head. I cry aloud to the Lord, and he answers me from his holy mountain.

Psalms 3:3-4 CSB

Peace floods my weary heart. God sees me. He hears. And answers.

So, I come. Weary. Worn out. Exhausted. I offer the only thing I have left to give. Myself. My will, emotions, dreams, and hopes. And my plans, talents, time, heart, soul, and mind. I can bring my everything.

The wisemen traveled across their known world to reach King Jesus when most days I struggle to breach the distance between standing on my own understanding and falling on my knees.

But I guess it’s in the moments when we have nothing left to offer that we understand the fullness of God’s love. When we are weak, He is strong. When we have nothing left, He is enough.

All I can bring is actually the best thing I can offer: my everything.

Even when you are tired, come to the Father. 

Thank You, Jesus, for welcoming me into Your embrace just as I am. Thank You for Your unconditional love. Amen.

 

Genre: Non-fiction

Copyright 2024: What Could I Bring?: Christy Bass Adams: All Rights Reserved