I Cannot Do this Alone

My weary heart began last night when the first cries from a sick little girl began echoing through the upstairs of our home. After a few days without my husband this week and two very busy days following, I selfishly wanted to ignore the cries, hoping they would disappear. They didn't.

This morning the light through our big bedroom window made it's presence known much, much too early and my first waking thought was "uhk." There were stirrings from the girls' room long before the hour I deem "acceptable" for them to awake and the quiet noises from downstairs let me know that my sweet husband was up and that I should really want to get up to help him prepare for his day. I didn't want to.

Bemoaning, I stumbled downstairs, greeted him with a half hug (the type where he reaches out and I lean against him content to receive, not willing to give.)

I began our morning preparations trying to rush through them, ignoring the thumping, bumping, squealing from upstairs with the intent to get as much possible done before I had two little ones underfoot trying to help. I finally surrendered and ran up to my wee ones and discovered the most precious site: Addy in Anna's crib with her, both girl's blankets, pillows and babies all piled up inside and two sweet heads, inches apart in an embrace. And Addy said "Mama, I needed to be in Anna's crib. She's my best friend."

Slowly my hardened, selfish heart began to melt and then it hit: morning sickness. I raced downstairs carrying both girls, threw them on the couch and raced to the bathroom.

Ug.

Joel quickly came to my rescue, offered to make me my cure-all of lemon & ginger tea, and gave the girls the morning loves that their mama wasn't willing to offer earlier.

I sat down at the computer (in the room closest to the bathroom,) began sipping my tea and clicking through my reader and read this poem:

I Cannot Do This Alone

O God, early in the morning I cry to you.
Help me to pray
And to concentrate my thoughts on you:
I cannot do this alone.

In me there is darkness,
But with you there is light;
I am lonely, but you do not leave me;
I am feeble in heart, but with you there is help;
I am restless, but with you there is peace.
In me there is bitterness, but with you there is patience;
I do not understand your ways,
But you know the way for me…

Restore me to liberty,
And enable me to live now
That I may answer before you and before me.
Lord, whatever this day may bring,
Your name be praised.

- a poem included in Devotions for Lent, by Dietrich Bonhoeffer

And then I read this quote by John Piper:

"Christ does not exist in order to make much of us. We exist in order to enjoy making much of him. Christ is not glorious so that we get wealthy or healthy. Christ is glorious, so that rich or poor, sick or sound, we might be satisfied in him."

And then this by Charles Spurgeon:

"Salvation is of the Lord." If I am prayerful, God makes me prayerful; if I have graces, they are God's gifts to me; if I hold on in a consistent life, it is because He upholds me with His hand. I do nothing whatever towards my own preservation, except what God Himself first does in me...Where do I gather my might? My help cometh from heaven's hills: without Jesus I can do nothing. As a branch cannot bring forth fruit except it abide in the vine, no more can I, except I abide in Him. What Jonah learned in the great deep, let me learn this morning in my closet: "Salvation is of the Lord."

And I stopped, repented with the keen awareness that if left to my own devices I would still be in bed but by His Grace Alone, I was led to the foot of the cross where it is evident that I cannot love apart from Him. So I asked for His help, which He was giving me, long before I asked.



"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” ~ Matthew 11:28-30