Today was a bust. I was going to pray. I was going to write about it. It was going to be (modestly) inspirational. It didn’t happen.
Nope, not at all.
In the morning I was tired. I thought about praying, but decided to wait till I was more awake, and then I got busy.
In the middle of the morning, I was rushing around getting us all ready for a morning outing. We didn’t sit down for a snack, so we forgot all about it.
At noon we were all hungry and cranky and the baby was crying.
Mid-afternoon the baby was crying.
My husband said grace at supper. Win!
The baby cried this evening too.
So here I am, past my bedtime, and I still haven’t really prayed. I thought about it, but didn’t actually do it. Does that count for anything? I suppose it’s something that the spirit is willing. (The flesh, on the other hand, needs exercise. These darn habits can be so hard to get going!)
I’m trying to think of some fitting Bible verse to meditate on as I drift to sleep, but I think I left my Bible downstairs and I’m cozy in bed. I’m even too tired to google it. The only thing I can think of is this:
Into Your hands I commit my spirit.
I’m not trying to be melodramatic, I’m just worn out, and I believe for tonight He will take me just as I am. Sleep is a gift and I will embrace it with thanksgiving and try again in the morning.