Come to Me all who are Weary

The other morning I walked by our bathroom mirror, and, for the first time in my life it actually stopped me dead in my tracks.

I looked absolutely terrible.

Not in the “I should lose a couple pounds” or “I hate my haircut” way, but more like I looked utterly weary.

Overwhelmed.

Beaten down.

And although inside I have certainly been feeling that way, seeing it physically reflected back at me was shockingly breathtaking.

It’s been a long few months, mentally, as I slogged through the summer.

Not only was summer my mom’s favorite time of year, but it also held so many lonely “firsts” that it often left me trying to play catch-up with my emotions.

The Mini’s first birthday without Nini.

My first birthday without my mom.

First time going to the fair, first time going to the pool, first time not going to the beach, first time having to buy the kids new clothing without her tagging along.

And of course, there was probably the hardest of all, her birthday.

But as it’s been said before, time continues to march on, and however painful these events, these firsts, eventually passed us by.

However, I would be lying if I said that physically and mentally these months haven’t beaten me down.

The truth is that some days I feel like I’m barely scraping by, just trying to get one foot in front of the other.

Trying to fill the time with whatever distraction I can to try and go just twenty minutes without thinking about the giant gaping hole.

Mentally exhausted from just getting through the moments in the day.

Although I’m hoping to talk about it more in coming posts, since my mom’s passing I have also been at the mercy of some merciless anxiety.

This not only leaves me mentally defeated, but physically exhausted.

And that moment in the mirror was a vivid and awful reminder off the weight I carry these days. The mental and physical burden slowly trying to suffocate me.

It was a reminder of how incredibly weak I am.

Even more convicting, it was a reminder that I am commanded to NOT try and shoulder the weight of the world by myself.

Come to Me all who are weary, and I will give you rest.

That moment in the mirror was a reminder of how quickly I fall back into the pattern of just dealing with it myself

Instead of relying on the One who spoke and created life.

The One who holds all things in His hands.

The One who can and did carry the world on His shoulders.

The One who went through the same trials and fire I now walk through and knows exactly how painful it is.

The One who has extended salvation and grace to an undeserving and lowly sinner such as I.

How simple and silly am I to think that I can take the difficulties of this life and hold them securely in my weak, pitiful grasp.

How quick I am to forget that even if I lose it all, I still have Christ.

Him I cannot lose.

That moment in the mirror was one of many that has sent me crawling humbly back to the foot of the Cross, begging not only for forgiveness, but for the strength to carry on.

The good news, in all of this emotional mess, is that while I am unable to carry myself through the hard moments,

He is willing and

He

is

able.

I need only come.

 

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