Letting go of the end of your rope

So yeah it happened.

Tonight my sweet, dear daughter was hurting so bad. I hadn’t felt well for a day or so, but felt like I could power through. But when I felt sicker and sicker, and she realized it, we both started crying in her bed.

She turned on praise music. “Why is he trying to steal, kill, and destroy?” she asked, her voice small.

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” I said through tears.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too. Please don’t think about me. I’ll be fine,” I told her.

More crying. Then that helpless feeling that I had come to the end of myself. The rope that once felt strong, withered in my hands and I let go.

Thankfully my husband and son were there to pick me up from the fall. They came to the hospital, and Aidan drove me back home. I’m writing this post, then going to bed. I miss my husband. I miss my other kids. I miss Julia as carefree and painfree. I’m tired of fighting. I need your prayers (and I know I have them).

I feel drained and numb and old and scared and bewildered and angry and tired to my bones.

Jesus, please take note of our family. We need You now. We’re wearied.

Comments are closed.