Sticky Muck

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.

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