I’m all out of steam. My tank is out of gas. I’m runnin’ on empty. My get-up has lost its go. There’s no pep in my step. I’m all tuckered-out. You choose the expression. I fit the bill—I am exhausted.
Do you sometimes feel this way? Like no matter how much sleep you get, you’re just weary. Weary to the tips of your toes. Even your bones are tired. Today’s woman is tired.
Tired of doing jobs no one notices. Tired of wiping snotty noses. Tired of driving hundreds of miles in carpools and never getting anywhere. Tired of to-do lists that never get done. Tired of cleaning the house only seconds before it implodes again. Tired of mac-n-cheese dinners because we’re too tired to cook anything else. We are just tired.
Ironically, the holidays only seem to compound our mommy-exhaustion. To the everyday insanity we add baking, decorating, event planning, event juggling, gift shopping, gift wrapping, card writing, more carpooling, and the list could go on and on and on.
The feelings of being overwhelmed consume me more than I care to admit. When they do, the words of Jesus float in and out of my conscious. His words. The breath of life fills my weary soul. The nurturing words of our Savior envelopes deep comfort.
“Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
I take a few moments to breathe in the power of His words. He wants to carry me, give me rest. My weariness does not have to be mine and mine alone. But then, I stop. I begin to ask myself the question. The question of, how?
How do I come to you Jesus and experience your rest? How, exactly, does this give-me-rest thing work? I find myself often reading the bible yearning for the how. The application to the precepts. The answer to the “I know what I’m supposed to do, but how do I actually do it” questions.
Today, I find my answer in another soul-calming scripture.
“…but those who trust in the Lord
will renew their strength;
they will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary;
they will walk and not faint.”
The solution jumps off the screen and wraps its arms around my weary heart. Trust. I must trust in my Savior. Think for a moment, when we throw in the towel, wave the white flag, call it quits, what are we lacking the most? Trust. I fail to trust that my Jesus will always give me the strength I need to bare up under the pressures of life.
When I trust Him, my exhaustion moves from that dark place of desperation to a place that reminds me all will be well. I will make it through the day. Instead of lamenting the snotty nose of my sweet monkey, I will relish in the extra hugs he needs. Learning more about my little princess in the carpool miles is worth the gas and sleepiness. When my house implodes I can choose to be grateful that I will have less to clean up than if I hadn’t picked up only moments before.
Trust is the ability to say, “Lord, you have this. You have my exhaustion. You have my stress. You hold it all in the palm of your hand—a hand big enough to bear my burdens. In fact, you want to take my weariness upon you. All I have to do is trust that you will.”
When I trust Jesus with my weariness, am I magically less sleepy? No. But I am able to rise above the weariness of life on His wings. I am able to keep going. I am able to make it through my day. Trust equals rest. It’s that simple, or maybe that difficult. Your perspective is everything.
I need to trust my Jesus more. (And maybe sleep a little more…)