Thin

By the time I got out of the shower, the tears were falling.

It doesn’t take long to disintegrate when the fiber of your being is worn thin.

And I am.

I am paper-thin. Stretched. Brittle.

I feel impatient and tired and weary. I poured everything I’ve got into making summer fun for my kids. And now that it’s over, I am spent.

I’m not up to tackling a week of solo-parenting.

I. Am. Not.

But I have no choice.

Corey has to travel. It’s part of his job. And I’m thankful he provides for our family. I do not take it for granted.

But six nights of putting four kids to bed by myself? Six dinners with only kids to keep me company? Six days of school carpool, no matter if Kieran just fell asleep in his own bed for the first time all day? Six days of battling my strong-willed son without backup? Six days of dread instead of six days of enjoyment?

It is overwhelming for me right now.

So yesterday morning, I broke.

My normal happy-go-lucky, chin-up, rosy--glasses outlook gave way to a pile of shattered fragments.

I fell to my knees and put my head in my hands and let the tears spill onto Psalms.

And there, in my brokenness, I worshiped.

God loves a lullaby
In a mothers tears in the dead of night
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah
- Amy Grant, Better Than A Hallelujah

I am inexpressibly thankful God takes us as we are, even when – or maybe especially when – we are broken.

I am thankful the light shines best through the thin.