My husband and I sat down for our quiet time this morning, and neither of us was in the mood to pray. Why bother summed up our mood. Then I pull out Jesus' words in Matthew 11: Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest.
Nothing I did as a mom seemed to help my son. None of the therapies; none of the love; none of the counseling—personal, marital, and family. Nothing could “fix” our son. But daily, as I sat and whispered Maranatha, Come Lord Jesus, the Lord showed up. He let me know that I was more than Joel’s mom, Matt and Justin’s mom, Wally’s wife. I belonged to God. I was rooted and grounded in God. My life had purpose. My true self began emerging.