There are days we can feel like we’re plain wrung out and emotionally drained. I’ve had a few. What do we do when we feel squeezed out of all joy and vision?
I’m old enough to have had one of these antique washers back in the day – many a nail was broken going through the wringer along with the diaper. I remember holding my baby girl to allow her to help – that was a mistake. I was a teenage mom, so I had a lot to learn. One lesson, was to buy an automatic washer.
You may be in a restless place right now at the end of a hot and humid summer — within weeks the kids will return to school and you might be going back to a routine that either keeps you filled well or wrung empty. We have a choice. Somewhat.
My grateful choice has been to be part of a strong fellowship of women over the years in our weekly Precept Bible study. It’s been a lifeline for those soul-weary seasons to be able to come together and be filled with the water of the Word – together.
Our last study was looking at the complicated life of David. What a real guy. As often as I’ve read the book of Samuel through the years, it was as if I just opened to learn new ways in how to bring up kids (David didn’t do that well), bring down giants (he did that one well), handle friendships and enemies, but most of all how to repent and rest in his trustworthy Father. He messed up often but knew where to run when he was at the end of himself . . .
His beautifully written imagery of humility and contentment is within three simple lines ~
Lord my heart is not haughty nor my eyes lofty.
Neither do I concern myself with great matters or things too profound for me.
Surely I have calmed my soul like a weaned child with his mother, like a weaned child within me.
If we could paint this scripture, it would be a portrait of stillness and absolute abandonment of all self-reliance. The secret of not letting our crazy surroundings be our focus. Think about it, if you’re a mom and have held a nursing child resting peacefully, and the other children at your feet are fussing over a toy, the child at your breast still rests composed and settled. Unbothered.
Psalm 131 invites us out of the tug-of-war in our head to experience the peace that passes all understanding when we learn to lean on our heavenly Parent. May we go there . . .