I’m Wearing Glasses Because Mascara is Way Too Much Work
The kind that seeps through your eyelids and fingertips like lead, that makes hunger preferable because chewing sound like a lot of work.
In fact, the peach I am slowly eating (chew chew, work work) is not even ripe, and I don’t care. I’m too tired to care. All I know is that peach = sugar = promise of energy, so here I sit, eating my crunchy peach.
The strange thing is that I think I’ve gotten enough sleep this week. I don’t think this is a sleep exhaustion — this is a life exhaustion. The last month or so of my life has been constant Go Go Go — weddings left, right, and sideways (five in less than two months, all with their accompanying festivities), driving to and from Virginia, family visiting, helping remodel my sister’s house, preparing to move, researching grad school, computer issues. To add to that, a good handful of my friends are all leaving town and yesterday was my last day with several of them. (I absolutely loathe goodbyes.) It’s enough to make my head spin, and in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if my head actually started spinning, like Daffy Duck or Bugs Bunny or whatever Looney Tunes character’s heads used to spin around and they’d have to clamp their hands on the sides of it to stop it.
Sorry, I realize that my last few entries have focused on how out-of-control busy my life is, and I shouldn’t whine. Most of what is going on is FUN stuff, but still…all that merriment is taking its toll. I’m at work, multi-tasking and trying to get stuff done, when all I can think about is the dirty bathroom at home, the full laundry basket, and piles of dishes in the kitchen. As I have four people arriving at my doorstep tonight to camp out in my house for the weekend, it would be great to not have a dirty house. (I know they couldn’t give a hoot if my house is clean or not, but *I* care.)
As I began reading Joshua last night, this verse stuck out to me as Joshua and the Israelites are prepared to enter the Promised Land: “All your life, no one will be able to hold out against you. In the same way I was with Moses, I’ll be with you. I won’t give up on you; I won’t leave you. Strength! Courage!”
I give up on me a lot. I look around me at the overwhelming piles at my feet (sometimes literally) and don’t know what to do. My first instinct is to either scream, cry, or collapse. I want to give up. I want to just tell everyone to leave me alone, so I can curl up in a ball and sleep for days and not have to make decisions and organize picnics and clean bathrooms. I close my office door and pound my fists on my desk, frustrated that nothing turns out the way I want it to. I feel like a failure and a poser and a hypocrite.
I am thankful for a Jesus that walks beside me, that crawls up next to me and holds me when I break down and can’t do it anymore. I love this Jesus who doesn’t care how clean my bathtub is or whether or not the guy at the Farmer’s Market responds to my small talk about Swiss Chard. He doesn’t leave, He doesn’t give up. When I am exhausted and overwhelmed with life, He gently reminds me how lucky I am for what I have going on around me. There is love, there is beauty, there is amazing wealth. He peels away my self-pity like a bad sunburn, and reminds me that being thankful is sometimes painful and hard, but it’s all I can do if I want any semblance of His kingdom in my life.
This crunchy peach isn’t so bad.
And I’m not so tired anymore.