Summer is hard, y'all.

Really hard.  There's no structure, there's no schedule, and there's enough heat and humidity to make the sweetest of us cranky.
But I think the very hardest thing has been having my kids at home with me all day, everyday.  I said it.  Now I'm officially the worst mother ever.
I do adore them, and generally love spending time with them.  They are amazing, wonderful little people.  But I am a complete and total introvert, and being surrounded by demanding, talk-your-ears-off little people all. day. long. just drains me.
I can't think clearly or function properly.  I never get a chance to recharge before the next little "Mama, I need you" zaps me of my last bit of energy.  There's no me left over at the end of the day for, well, anything.
I am more than aware of the irony here.  We waited, and prayed, and fought for children.  We wanted them so very badly (and still do).  We hoped they would bring with them a sense of fulfillment.  And in many ways, they did.  But.
But maybe we were looking to them for joy instead of the only one who can give it.  Maybe these amazing, wonderful little people became more to us than the sweet little children they are.  Just maybe they occupied a place in our hopes and in our hearts that nothing, no one should occupy except Christ alone.
Looking to anything other than Him for joy and fulfillment can only lead to disappointment.  My sweet children are just that.  Children.  Children who sometimes fuss and argue and pitch fits and need me beyond my breaking point.  They are not my all.  They are not my identity.  They can never fully satisfy.
I'm so thankful for the Holy Spirit that convicts and points me again and again to the One and only source of joy.  And in Him, I can find strength and patience and everything I need to get through these hard summer days.  And maybe even enjoy them.
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