tiredLosses and messes. Saying good-bye and cleaning up. Can't recall a day in the past couple of weeks when one or both of these weren't dominant themes, and I'm having a tough time with it. On the other hand, none of us has been promised anything else, and I can hardly count myself among either the persecuted or the suffering. Feeling sorry for myself just has rotten results, which isn't something I or anyone around me needs. "Weary" is a more apt description. And I don't like not being strong or gracious enough to absorb or deflect it all in stride.
I'm thankful to follow a King who invites the weary and heavy-laden to come to Him for rest—I guess I just don't want to be this weary and heavy-laden. But I am. And I don't know what rest looks like from the losses and messes. He's going to have to show me.
