She sits and finishes off her glass of Cabernet. She is tired and alone.
She is thirty-two and divorced. Two beautiful, smart and talented kids look up to her every day. These precious, amazing kids are in need of love and support and food and provision. And every time she looks back into their eyes, she despises herself.
For not being enough. For not having enough. For not giving enough. It’s never enough.
Every night she goes and tucks her kids into bed. Frazzled, hurried, impatient and wishing she could have another go at it. She tries so hard to get home sooner. Every day, she rushes out of work to get home as fast as she can. And as soon as that door opens, the kids scream, "MOM!" with utter delight.
They wrap all around her in a matter of seconds. They are impossibly tiny. Completely innocent. Dangerously hopeful.
Apologizing to the babysitter for being late yet again, she goes to uncork another bottle of wine and turn on the TV. She listens haphazardly to the details of the day’s activities from the kids while simultaneously scrolling social media. There’s too much buried deep down inside her heart and mind; she needs to be distracted. And it’s too hard to concentrate anyway. Even when she does reflect, there only seem to be feelings of guilt and shame. She seems to be needing more and more Cabernet to drown out her restlessness. Anything to help her get by, only to do it all over again tomorrow.
She’s beyond spent. She’s done.
She immediately closes her eyes and tears stream down her cheeks and chin. How did this happen? How did she get here?
She breathes out from pure exhaustion and then back in again from being out of breath. Even breathing is work. She is so, very tired. Tired of not giving her children what they deserve, tired of feeling hollowed out, tired of being tired.
There must be something she can do, someone she can go to?
She heads into her room, only to be reminded by her bed of how utterly alone she is. Scared, unsure and frustrated only start to peel away at the surface of her inner turmoil. Darkness runs deep and she has built Fort Knox walls of defense mechanisms around her heart. She is in lockdown mode. She has to be. She must be strong for her children, for her own survival.
But this just isn’t working. No one’s even close to being happy or satisfied. She’s just trying to get by.
She kneels at her bed, closes her eyes and tries to pray. Probably for the first time in years. She’s not sure; she can’t even remember yesterday, but she’s hoping today will be different. Somehow, today has to be different.
And she knows the only way today can be different from yesterday is if she starts to do things differently than before.
She stays quiet at first. Not really knowing where to start.
How do you talk to God after all that has taken place? What do you even say to pray? Is He even listening? Could He still love her after everything?
She sighs, hesitates, then eventually says the only thing that comes to her mind,
"Help." "Please, I mean if You’re there, could you?" "Can you help me?"
And immediately, the floodgates open. More tears come rushing. She can’t stop them. It’s like something inside of her exploded. All of her fears, all of her failures, all of her mistakes and all of her shame. All she needs is some encouragement, for someone to tell her that she is loved today. That she is enough.
And it’s here, in her dark and quiet room, in the restlessness of her soul that she can hear Him.
"Come to me." Almost in an echo.
She hears Him. This time, she really hears Him. This time, she knows God is there.
In this moment, she is finally willing to surrender. And her soul breathes.
“She was never the one who had to be enough.”
Friends, I know her all too well. There are pieces of me in her story … and perhaps pieces of you too?
"Help" wasn’t a fancy prayer. It wasn’t polished or brave. But it was honest, and it was enough. Because she was never the one who had to be enough.
Jesus says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28).
If you’re her tonight, or you know someone who is tired of being tired, please know that you don’t have to know the right words to pray. You don’t need to clean up first. "Help" is a prayer. Whisper it tonight, and let your soul breathe.
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Matthew 11:28If she came to mind as you read this, send this to her. Sometimes the kindest thing we can do is remind a tired friend that she’s not alone.
— Jen
