Burnout

I'm a woman, a wife, a mom, a teacher. I've been more things and I've had fewer titles. I'm not a stranger to sleeplessness, or frustration, or discouragement, or any number of words that seem cliche to me when I say them out loud.

And now, I'm in a season of wading through the deep waters of discouragement. There doesn't seem to be a "good" reason - my family is healthy, we have what we need, there is no crisis. My marriage is amazing. Despite those not inconsequential blessings, the little things of life have compounded, and the littlest additions or subtractions have me often melting into a puddle of uselessness and tears. I have felt like a failure at just about everything and I'm not always (or ever) sure of what to change or do to make it better.

We've hit the Spring Slump in homeschooling progress. Our parenting skills need a refresher course in consistency and an update for maturing progeny. My house is a wreck and I feel like all I do is rush around in a fog of forgetfulness and unreliability. My best efforts end up failing. I'm losing things and losing it, both very much too often. 

Today, for example, my dishes are piled up like grimy soldiers returning from who-knows-where, my dishwasher has failed to clean the ones I carefully loaded this morning. The blade is out so I can clean the filter, but I can't find the star bit I need to loosen the screen and clean it out. I've lost my gumption for this task, so the parts have been laid aside and my dishes wait for the return of my husband and the magic of his knowledge of where the tools are. It seems like a little thing, and it is, but it derailed me. Now dinner will not be ready until later, children will clamor, and all the Things That Can Possibly Go Wrong probably will. I have turned into Eeyore because one element of my carefully planned day went askew.

Tightly wound, much?

I could say "If ONLY I had more sleep" but I wouldn't trade sleep for the baby snuggles. I could say "If only I had a cleaning lady" or "If only there was a perfect school for my kids so I wouldn't have to home school" but we've made other choices that I'm mostly happy for the trade off.

Really, it's not a problem with the dishwasher, or the lack of sleep - or even the postpartum hormones that make dealing with the normal ups and downs of life seem impossible. It is my primary struggle now (and looking back, always has been) about my perception of control. It's a problem with ME and one that (as God would have it) I'm trying to help my children understand - life is NOT about me and my agenda. I do not have to be in control or even know what's coming next. I can trust my Father. Enjoy the journey, He is in charge. Easy to say, so hard to live.

It's so easy to let the dark waters get you. SO EASY to wallow in weariness. So, SO easy. My brain yells "RETREAT!! HIDE!!! INTROVERT!!!"  But Someone is drawing me out, past the failure and past my ridiculous tears - I have a Savior who calls to me, the weary one. He calls me because His yoke is easy, and His burden is light. And he wants to bear my burdens, even the littlest ones. He calls me to come, rest, not just because His sacrifice has paid for my eternal life, but because His love compels me. He is enough.

This is the struggle, to trust Him. To teach my children to trust Him. To seek to see Him at work, to purposely give thanks. To see past my struggles, to realize the temporary nature of them and ask for joy, to ask for patience, to beg Him for grace for each moment. To understand that this is how He draws me closer.

Our church has been singing this new hymn lately. I learned it a couple of years ago, but I still can't make it through without tears.


COME, LONELY HEART (Text by Chris Anderson; Tune by Greg Habegger)

Come, lonely heart, to the outsider’s Friend—
To Jesus, Who seeks out the lost.
Your cruel seclusion has come to an end;
Find welcome, find home, at the cross.
No soul is too small for His mercy;
No sin is too great for His grace! 
Come, lonely heart, to the outsider’s Friend;
Find welcome, find home, at the cross.

Drink, thirsty heart, of the water of life—
Of bountiful, soul-quenching grace.
The world’s broken cisterns cannot satisfy;
The Savior is what your heart craves.
No soul is too small for His mercy;
No sin is too great for His grace!
Drink, thirsty heart, of the water of life;
The Savior is what your heart craves.


Rest, guilty heart, in forgiveness of sin—
In pardon from shame-stirring vice.
Though Satan and sinners and conscience condemn,
Your soul may be spotless as Christ.
No soul is too small for His mercy;
No sin is too great for His grace! 
Rest, guilty heart, in forgiveness of sin;
Your soul may be spotless as Christ.

Joy, grateful heart, in the hope you have found—
In God, Who is seeking your praise.
Then go to the outcast, that grace may resound,
For Jesus is mighty to save.
No soul is too small for His mercy;
No sin is too great for His grace!
Joy, grateful heart, in the hope you have found,
For Jesus is mighty to save.