Five Minute Friday! Coming to the end of the deadline for being out of our house. Husband has been working 17-20 hour days. I’ve called in favors with just about every person I can think of to get what needs done around here, done and lifted more boxes and furniture than a girl with a herniated disc should even think about. The word “stretch” is appropriate.
I have been stretched taut close to breaking for three weeks now.
To suddenly have our move almost entirely up to me. Daunting doesn’t even cover it.
I’ve had moments of despair–real, honest to goodness, despair and so many extra curve balls have been thrown in. Health problems with my family which not only caused my heart to worry for those I love, but meant my Dad couldn’t come help with the move. My husband’s grandmother dying.
We are stretched almost to a breaking point.
But we keep remembering…
“Grace… Mercy…. Peace….”
Husband says it to himself while spending time in ‘resting position’ as part of induction. I say it to myself when the water is up to my neck and the internet won’t connect and the loads of stuff that I thought I was making progress on haven’t really put a dent in the piles of boxes that yet need to be moved.
My heart has panicked, but I go back to that whisper-yell. Grace… Mercy… Peace….
I am pressed but not crushed, persecuted, not abandoned. Struck down, but not destroyed.
It’s been a hard, hard bigger than me week.
But I hear those words over the din and the panic.
And I quiet down for just a moment knowing that even in this place of being stretched far, far beyond my broken-bodied, wearied-spirit limits, I am not alone.
Stretched beyond my limits, I can truly see how God moves mountains and works in and through even me.