I learned this verse many years ago. I taught these words to my littles just this year. Yet, this morning I struggled with them.
Before my feet hit the floor, I argued with God. I had no strength left for the new day. How was I supposed to love? My heart and soul were still bruised. Yes, we had had a few good days. Maybe it is mid-life hormones. Who knows? I feel I have to fight for every word, for every choice, for each child.
God did not give me a chance to give in though I would have gladly let someone else run my house for the day. Loving God meant loving my family. That meant hugs, words spoken in truth and love, and clean laundry. It meant breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It also meant that I did not buy extra treats. It meant that one son had to miss baseball yet again because he simply cannot hold it together safely. It meant not losing it when a child yelled at me on more than one occasion. It meant making strawberry shortcake with my daughter to highlight the yummy berries she had harvested that morning.
It also meant not rushing to escape my family when Bryan came home. It meant climbing into his lap (making the little boys cringe) and sitting with my sweetie.
Loving God is not always the easy way, but it is always the right way. I was not strong today, but strong enough to love.
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