It was one of those days.
You know the kind I mean—the kind of day where nearly everything that could go wrong did go wrong.
As the sun slipped below the horizon, I drove down the road, coaxing my weary head to focus. Educational questions, my kids’ spiritual needs, their inability to stay well this season, and my perceived failings as a mom, all bounced around in my head at intervals. I tried not to think about the pile of to-do’s waiting for me at home.
By the time I got to my friend’s house, I felt like I had spent the entire day running.
I turned off the car and sat still for a moment wondering why I just couldn’t seem to get life right. Every time I got into a routine or started making progress, someone or something would come along like a tornado, leveling my carefully constructed efforts. I raked my fingers through my hair, thinking, “I feel like a mess. Why, oh why, am I so awful at this thing called adulthood… and parenting… and everything? Everyone around me has it together. What’s wrong with me?”
I took a steadying breath, tried fruitlessly to smooth my frazzled hair, and walked to the front door.
As usual, the Lord set me straight before the night was over.
The ladies with whom I spent the evening ended their time with prayer. Each woman shared a concern or a need and their request was written down and prayed over. As I listened to these sweet mothers and grandmothers share their requests, I heard the pain, concern, and often weariness in their voices. Each person in that room had their own mountain to face, and all needed the steadfast love of the Lord to strengthen them for what lay ahead.
I wasn’t the only person having “one of those days.”
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