The sun peers over the tops of mountains and stains the sky a blushing pink. I look out this picture window and watch the sky grow light, see the dark shapes there develop like a Polaroid picture as the sun rises, changes darkness to the familiar day-time shape of the front yard. Today is another full day, a day filled with more in it than I think I can accomplish and I look out the window, in part, because behind me there is a floor that needs vacuuming. a table littered with the remnants of a late-night date with some stubborn Algebra, the sticky remains of yesterday’s canning that escaped the mop somehow. Behind me, lining kitchen counters, are bowls and bags and boxes of peaches that need to be preserved today. And the school work is stacked and waiting, the to-do list is growing and some days I am overwhelmed by the fact that there is only one of me, and so many things that need my attention.
I could work, I am certain, from this moment when the sky cracks morning over mountaintops until it darkens again with dusk, and still not be satisfied with what I have done, with what I have left undone.
How do you run like this and not grow weary? How do you face the day, knowing that there is no rest in sight, knowing that tomorrow will be another race just the same as the day before? Feeling, as I sometimes do, that Sisyphus had no complaint compared to the mother of small children, compared to the owner of a home that, like your favorite Aunt, has been around long enough to be full of character and also to accumulate enough irritating physical complaints to fill a medical journal? Is it possible to keep this up, to finish the race at all?
I see the golden sun spill down the sides of mountains dotted with Autumn’s crimson, and I know: It all depends on where your strength comes from. My own strength, patience, and endurance would have expired long ago, of this I am sure. Looking at the day through the eyes of my human weakness it looks impossible, seems like work and only work. But I am not alone in the responsibility of this day, I have resources that I forget to tap into all to often. I belong to a God who is bigger than my to-do list, more powerful than the biggest sticky mess. Who is beyond the weeds and clutter and entropy of this world. One who knows how to fill me up, change my attitude, give me strength when mine fails and joy where I least expect it.
I turn from the comforting view of brightening sky and face the day: First thing on this long list is to spend time with the Word, drinking in courage and strength and sustenance for this day… daily bread for the soul. Here, in these worn pages, I find a little gift to hold today. A reminder that God sees my struggle and He is waiting, He is strength and power and He is waiting to fill me with that, to give me what I need to rejoice in the work of today and call it blessed.
Lift your eyes and look to the heavens:
Who created all these?
He who brings out the starry host one by one,
and calls them each by name.
Because of his great power and mighty strength,
not one of them is missing.
Why do you say, O Jacob,
and complain, O Israel,
“My way is hidden from the LORD;
my cause is disregarded by my God”?
Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The LORD is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom.
He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the LORD
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.