If This is a Test, I Must Be Failing

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I worry that this all is a test and I’m failing. Because some days I’m so tired I can barely lift my head. The stress of responsibilities both in and out of my home drains the life from me. I hate that I have to choose between self-care and my children, self-care and my husband. So I try to do both, and not well. So then I figure that the problem is the self and my in that previous sentence and decide that I don’t need to take care of myself after all.

Until I feel like I’m drowning and the only lifeline I can find is the theory of a few quiet minutes to recharge through something I enjoy that isn’t also work or a responsibility. Because if this is a test than I’m failing badly because I don’t know how to care for myself without feeling like I’m punishing my family and I don’t know to catch my breath without worrying that I’m stealing the oxygen from my relationships.

I once read a great quote which so aptly applies to motherhood. Paraphrased, it says If the world seems to be coming to an end, maybe what you really need is a cookie and a nap. Most days, that about covers it. Except there aren’t any cookies or naps in site. I don’t have time to make or take them. In fact, to extend the metaphor, the oven is broken and someone has hidden the mattress.

If this is a test, I must be failing, but most days I just wonder if it’s meant to be this hard, or if I’m just no meant for this.

Except, know that I think about it, I was never meant for this, any of this, none of us were. We struggle against far more than the material things we can see. Our souls are groaning for redemption. Our bodies, weary and broken cry out for healing. Yet, rest and restoration seem so far off.

 

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6 thoughts on “If This is a Test, I Must Be Failing

  1. Well-written, raw and transparent post, Bethany.

    Part of passing the test is, I suspect, the acknowledgement that we actually can’t pass it. We can juggle the chainsaws faster and faster, but eventually we’re going to drop one, and make rather a nasty mess.

    The mess, it seems, is the meaning of our lives. Not to fix it, but to find faith in the small sheltered corners, faith that will give us strength to stand to with mops and buckets, to clean up that which we can.

    #2 at FMF this week.

    https://blessed-are-the-pure-of-heart.blogspot.com/2016/10/your-dying-spouse-216-lethal-legacy-fmf.html

  2. Thanks for such a raw and real post. I don’t think it’s a test. I really don’t. Not anymore. I think it’s just life. And if every day you get up and do it all over again, you’re doing just fine.

    1. Thanks, Julie. I agree that for the most part, I don’t believe life is really a test. But so often it feels that way and our reactions always feel inadequate somehow.

  3. May you soon be able to take the time for some nurturing of your soul. Remember that sometimes it’s ok to let others know that we need five minutes. Or half an hour. Or two hours, or whatever. And a cookie too. Peace for your journey. Visiting from FMF#43.

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