I caught myself complaining this week.
Not to anybody else. Just one of those quiet conversations we have with ourselves while we’re trying to get through another long day.
“I am stretched way too thin.”
The truth is, I really am. Most days start before the sun comes up and don’t end until fourteen hours later. Between ministry, baking, writing, answering emails, raising my son, and trying to squeeze in a few pages of my debut novel, there are days I crawl into bed wondering where the hours went.
Then almost immediately, another thought shows up.
“You shouldn’t complain.”
Because the truth is, I’m so so incredibly grateful.
I get to work from home. I get to be here when my kids need me. I love this ministry. I love encouraging women with God’s Word. I even love my little bakery business, even though there are mornings my alarm goes off long before I want it to. These are good gifts from God, and I never want to lose sight of that.
I’ve realized something over the past few weeks.
You can be deeply grateful... and completely exhausted at the same time.
Those two things aren’t enemies. One doesn’t cancel out the other.
As I was thinking about all of this on one of my walks, I realized my exhaustion wasn’t really what was bothering me. It was the conversation happening underneath the exhaustion. There was another thought quietly running in the background, and I’ve probably carried it for years without ever saying it out loud.
Somehow I’ve convinced myself that I have to work harder than everybody else.
Like there’s something in me that’s missing. Something that makes life a little harder than it seems to be for everyone around me. So I try harder. Work harder. Stay busier. Push a little longer.
Even writing those words makes me uncomfortable.
Because I know what I’d tell a friend if she said that to me.
I’d remind her of God’s love.
I’d remind her of His grace.
I’d remind her that she doesn’t have to earn what Jesus already purchased for her.
It’s amazing how much easier it is to preach truth to someone else than it is to preach it to yourself.
What I do know is this: every time I start believing I’m not enough, or every time I feel like I have to prove my worth all over again, I end up back in the Psalms.
I love how David, Asaph, and the sons of Korah don’t clean up their prayers before bringing them to God. They tell Him exactly what’s in their hearts. They ask hard questions. They cry. They wrestle. They don’t pretend everything is okay.
But they don’t stay there either.
Somewhere before the chapter ends, they start preaching truth back to their own souls. They remind themselves who God is. They remember His faithfulness. They choose to hope, even when their circumstances haven’t changed.
That has completely changed the way I pray.
Over the last year, seven specific prayers have become anchors for me whenever my heart starts believing old lies again. They help me stop listening to what my pain is saying and start listening to what God has already said.
I want to share those prayers with you because I have a feeling I’m not the only woman who needs them.
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