Thankfulness in anything is a challenge today. The money doesn’t stretch enough. He works so hard. And I feel so guilty.
Where I’m supposed to be. At home, with my children. The laundry, the bills, the school, the chores.
So I pray again. Relief. Peace. Help.
The journey of thankfulness. It isn’t easy. And far be it from me to present it like it is easy. This is one of the more painful decisions I have made. And when I speak when I should be silent, get angry when I should forgive… It makes it more painful. Tears of despair instead of joy still come. Selfish thoughts still pervade. I am increasingly aware that now, I make a choice to live in chaos rather than the peace that passes all understanding.
I complain about what has been provided. I sigh at what I do not have. I cringe that I cannot bring a smile to his face in the midst of his pain. I proceed to loneliness instead of the pain of exposing my love for him. A selfish web I have woven when first I do not look to Jesus.
It sits in front of me as I wash the dishes. Unload the dishwasher. Fix breakfast lunch and dinner.
Submit and give thanks. Peace comes through submission and thanksgiving. He keeps me. Like I am special, wanted, desired. Safe. Yet I act like it is scary, unfamiliar, out of my comfort zone; in essence, I reject His love on a daily basis.
In the failure of my day and insufficiency of my own strength, I see my children giggling and playing on the living room floor; grace. The sufficiency of grace. His grace covers my failure.
Covered. Paid. Spiritually, debt free.