Ever have one of those mornings where the weather begs you to stay in your jammies and cozy up with either a good book or a movie - or two?
It wasn't just the gray morning or the drizzle, but a slight headache that made me want to call it quits before I even got started.
So this became my line of thinking ...
First, I'll just do one load of laundry. (because well, piles of laundry ignored today become positively mountainous tomorrow.) I could tackle just one load, right?
Instead of doing school lessons, we'll just play some math games.
Since we're here at the table... we could do a little spelling...
and a page or two of grammar.
Next thing I knew, the basics were done. We made it through the day's lessons.
. . . . .
Looking over these photos from the weekend, I am reminded of Mary's determination, perseverance, and cheerfulness. She might not be able to ride like Dad, or do tricks like the others, but she has her own fun. She tries hard and just enjoys being a part of our adventure.
Sometimes we just have to will ourselves to do the things we'd rather not do, but it's not my strength I want to depend on. I am frail and puny by comparison to the Creator of the universe. Why would I rely on my "strength" when I can ask for His?
I fall into that trap far more often than I would like to admit. Independent, self-reliant, and self-centered, I might add! To the watching world, those qualities might seem admirable, but they are not. A life filled with and focused on self is quite unsatisfying, but a life lived with Christ as the center, and His glory the goal is so rich.
"Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and You will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light." - Matthew 11:28-30
He is the source of my strength, not me. I don't have to bear my burdens all on my own. I can give them to Him, who will gladly carry them for me. When I seek His strength, I am, at the same time, admitting that I lack it on my own. It is humbling, not in a disgraceful, shameful sense, but in a reverent, worshipful way. I am not, but He IS.
More of Him and less of me is my daily heart's cry.