on being not enough. . .
The last three months have been a textbook lesson in feeling like I am not enough. . .like the plates are spinning out of control and crashing down around I cannot possibly be all the places I need to be. . .
Three weeks ago, I found myself crying on Michelle’s shoulder in the middle of the kitchen, exhausted, certain that I had somehow let everyone around me down in one form or another. I was trying to be all the places at all the times. And only seeing where I was failing. I knew I had to toss some plates to someone else, or simply lay some down, but they all seemed to fragile or too important to drop.
And I felt myself starting to spin with the plates. I was able to walk through the days, but I found myself getting more hugs and more suggestions for chai breaks at work. Madeline would give me a side hug at home – her signal that she could sense I was overwhelmed.
One thing after another piled up. Another small crisis. A friend in need. Another goodbye. Another schedule change. Another day without talking to my family. A present missed. A second or third reminder on something I had forgotten to do.
And then a quiet whisper. . .”my grace is sufficient for you. . .”
But I didn’t want it to be. I wanted to settle into the difficulty, to shake my head at the impossibility of it all and be frustrated. I didn’t want to admit the undeniable and evident weakness coursing through each day. .
So I shut out the whisper. . .surely He was expecting more of me than I could give.
And it got louder. . .
MY grace is SUFFICIENT for YOU. . .and MY power is made perfect only in YOUR weakness. . .
Here’s the thing about trying to hold it all – it blinds me to the people around me who want to help me hold it. It weighs me down to the point where I feel I can’t cast my burdens because they are too heavy. it makes me think that I have to do it alone.
And nothing was further from the truth. I reached out for help and friends flew half way around the world. I leaned into my husband and found we were actually carrying it all together. I cuddled on the bed with Madeline and learned how much we were walking the same path. I played silly card games and let myself laugh. I put up my Christmas tree early and settled into the quiet whispers of the Prince of Peace.
I am stronger when I lean on the people around me, when I reach out for help, when I listen to the whisper and open my eyes to the fact that I am not alone. His grace is sufficient in the day to day – although not in a Hulk infusion of strength – often it comes in the form of the people He has placed around me, in quiet nights, or unexpected recoveries, in relationships deepening and sharing uncertainty.
In realizing that I can’t, and seeing that He never asked me to do it alone.