Fatigue has overtaken my body tonight, and I am praying for renewed strength tomorrow in the midst of this epic battle we are currently encountering. The fighting closely resembles a ping-pong match: one for Satan, one for the Lord. The victor, however, is already apparent. God, despite our frailty, has not allowed our hearts to be overcome.
I have felt literally faint for about two weeks now. I have nightmares of dropping said baby as I lose conscienceness. Who knew such little stresses could add up to a mountain of self-doubt?
Dreaming of washing machines, dishwashers, actual sinks, and scorpion-less toilet paper rolls, I, my true self not my monthly-newsletter-self, am ready to willingly sink under the wave of giving up. Yet, He will not let me.
He truly will not let me.
I am finding, as He loves me trudging through larvae-filled diapers, thieves, and stomach ulcers, He loves them ever so fiercely.
The them who speak love and empathy to me, who despite fatigue from the harvest offer help to me. He will not let me, such an imperfect and inadequate tool, go because He is not willing to let them go.
"Each time He said, "My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness." So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me."