I weave among the cars and motorcycles in this city, my home of four years, but still so completely foreign to me. I do my best to get around trying not to hit or be hit. Tension reigns as I maneuver my little automobile amongst the chaos of pedestrians, food carts, and other vehicles.
All around me, people. I groan. I grow frustrated. As a motorcycle cuts in front of me without looking, I let out an exasperated huff and honk my horn loudly. I am angry at the people I am here to love.
I return home, hot and sweaty, the smell of the city on my clothes. I weave among the chess pieces scattered on the floor, remains of an art project across the table, clothes folded but yet to be put away. I groan, and feel that frustration rise again. My head feels hot and the anger rises in my head and heart. I let out another exasperated huff, and stomp around to clean the mess. Yet again, anger directed at the people I am here to love.
As I retreat for a moment to sit in a dark and chilly room, and I ponder.
How could I get angry again?
How could I try and fail again? Why can’t I even love those He has called me to love? The ones that I have uprooted and travelled all the way around the world to serve and the ones that came from my own womb?
And the answer comes, gently. Have you still not gotten it? When will you stop striving?
Rest in Me and allow me to weave all that you need into your precious heart so that you may love and live in Me, and I will do all things well. You can do nothing without Me.
Allow Me to weave the love into your heart, allow Me to weave the patience, the understanding, the long-suffering.
I close my eyes, and drink His words in.
I am so tired. I fail so often. And yet, on He weaves.
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Photo Credit, BinaryApe.