It seems in many ways I have been running on empty lately. I actually told a friend that at times it feels like I am being asked to drive a fuel-less car down an endless freeway without any hope of a gas station near by. Dramatic much? I know.
Mothering all of my children (biological, adopted and foster) has left me feeling tapped out as of late. I remember a time last year when I bent over the baby’s bed and I literally didn’t have the physical strength to pick him up. I think that’s when we had four children under this roof, all at different stages. I will never forget the image of a juice box with about a hundred straws inserted into it from top to bottom, being sucked dry. The box had shriveled into itself. This was the metaphor given at one of my first *MOPS meetings and it resonated! Sometimes that is what it feels like –everyone wants a piece of me and is just helping themselves!
So that is where I find myself. I was reminded of the power of the words “but “and “yet” in Scripture this weekend. They are words of belief. Even though I feel like this "sucked dry" juice box, yet I remember the love of my God.
In the midst of this season, there is a worship song making it’s way around different communities right now. “Your love never fails. It never gives up. It never runs out on me. Your love never fails. It never gives up. It never runs out on me. And on and on and on and on it goes. It overwhelms and satisfies my soul. I don’t ever, ever have to be afraid. This one thing remains. This one thing remains. Your love NEVER FAILS." (Jesus Culture)
This concept, of the never ending, never stopping, never failing, bottomless, boundless love of God has captured my heart once again. He has ravished me with His love. To think that he is never tapped out, never on empty, never too tired or worn out. He is never annoyed with me or frustrated or at the end of his rope. He is Perfect Love, and His love is always flowing to me. Always. Constant. Sure.
This thought is so incredibly luscious to me. I want to bask in it. Endlessly.
Even as I sat and listened to His invitation from Isaiah 55: 1-3 last week, I was invited again to come, to listen and to eat what is good from His table. I could picture Love sitting here in my kitchen with me. Jesus, offering to nourish me right here at the breakfast nook. It’s the only way I’ll ever be able to nourish anyone else.
I can only give the love that I receive.
Thank you Jesus that your love is not like mine.
On and on and on and on and on…
Your love never fails.
There may be pain in the night, but joy come in the morning.
*Mothers of PreSchoolers is a community of women who gather to support and encourage each other during the preschool season of mothering…