I was up most of the night with a teething baby.
And now, my house is quiet.
But a load of laundry awaits my folding. The dishes need washing. And I cringe as I take inventory – Baby Leesy reeked major havoc on my formerly organized playroom.
And that’s only a minuscule portion of the undone chores that dictate my days. But an unattainable end just frustrates me and highlights the agony of my failures.
So, unfortunately, I wallow in the sticky muck of self pity and failure. I am not proud of it. But still, I continue. And the more I continue, the more that stickiness oozes in all around me. Until I can’t pull my self out.
Satan’s death grip on my mind seems impenetratable.
But God transforms my heart. His infinite power crushes the power of sin. Again.
And I can live in His new creation. In His strength. With His love. And in His joy.
I admit it.
I am still tired.
But I am not defeated.