It's been a long week.
The week was bookended with a sick baby, loads and loads of tiny frustrations mixed in the middle, and significant lack of sleep making me want to rip my hair out, or at the very least sit on the floor and sob. Which I did. Twice.
I am struggling to find balance in an already complicated situation (who's life isn't complicated, though?). I am terrified to fail as a wife, as a mother. I am terrified that I may lose myself. I worry about this predicament we are in, I worry about this, I worry about that, and I worry about everything else in between. I have been completely consumed by things I can't control, things that I just need to have faith will work.
Worry. Worry. Worry.
In an email to Ashley, I expressed my frustration and irritation and insurmountable worry. So much my stress has revolved around this move. I told her that I knew that we made the right decision, that it was what we were supposed to do, but still my fear was consuming me.
And Ashley, with her talent for saying it like it is (and bless her for it), said this:
Can I be really blunt about something? If you know that you are supposed to be there don't you think it might be a little bit offensive to the Lord that you are worried? It is. Imagine you telling your little Olivia that you would help her and then she continues to worry that you won't. How sad as a loving parent. So don't worry sister, it is just such a huge energy drain that you don't need right now.
She could not have hit the nail more squarely on the head. Brilliance in tender mercies.
