Tomorrow is not a new day.

Before kids (ya know, those DINK days) when my husband and I actually had the energy to have a disagreement or an emotional conversation at night, there were times when I wasn't fully resolved by bedtime. I wasn't angry or upset. Usually my mind had worked through whatever we were discussing but my feelings hadn't caught up yet. I was still in a "funk." I would reassure Ben, "No worries. I'll be fine come morning." And I almost always was - bright, chipper, fully back to myself, and motivated to keep going.


There is no new morning anymore. There is just the period of time after a restless night.

There doesn't seem to be individual days anymore either - just wake time, nap time, bed time, wake time, nap time, bed time.

My body constantly aches. When the sun rises and light floods my living room, I don't feel refreshed. I don't feel ready. I don't feel motivated.



There are vestiges all over my home of things I didn't have the time or energy to do yesterday. Things like dishes and kitchen tidy up...

Things like laundry... I'm really fortunate if I remember to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer before it gets musty, have a free basket to put the clean clothes from the dryer in, and the time in which to do any of that. 

I love that we read books to our children and that Calvin already has a love of literature; however, that literature can really start crowding up the floor and table space.

I just don't have the energy or willpower to persevere. Then I wake in the morning, and no loving Dobby-of-a-house elf has picked it all up for me. It's still there - taunting me. 

I realize I haven't properly eaten all day, and I'm starving. So I order pizza. The note that I leave on the door for the delivery guy is left on the door for days afterwards... then it claims it's proper place in this crazy house - the floor.

But as I look at all of the above photos, I really don't see mess. I don't see a tired, haggard household with a mom that wakes up crying. 

I just see love - Jesus's love. The love that hugs the mess. A love that kisses the fingers holding crusty grit that has built up under the nails because my toddler hasn't had a proper bath in days. A love that calls the stinky, sticky wife beautiful. 

I still don't feel it. But I know it... and that will have to do for now.

"Love bears all things..." 1 Corinthians 13:7 (ESV)