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I’m exhausted. It’s not the kind of exhausted that comes after a hard workout; it’s the pleading with God day after day for another miracle kind of exhausted. Life has not turned out like I wanted this week. My optimism has been tested and I see glimmers of hope only sometimes.
Normal life has taken a backseat this week. Crisis has a way of rearranging priorities.
Exhaustion has brought a fog of discouragement.
When scary stuff comes uninvited into my lap and stays awhile, I react. Anger is closer to the surface now.
Crisis exhaustion hurts.
I wrote this a number of weeks ago during a particularly discouraging and exhausting week. I’m only now barely rested enough to reflect on it. Recalling the uncertainty is easy, it’s still so raw at times, but the weariness has changed a bit over the weeks since.
I want to feel the warmth of hope again but when the days of utter emotional exhaustion return full force, I crumble.
I’ve collapsed into God’s embrace. Life has no guarantees, except that He promises to be with us and that glimmer is enough to carry me.
When was the last time you were emotionally exhausted? What carried you through?
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