Lord Send Help, The Boxwoods Still Need Trimming, Transplanted and Still Blooming, Cinthia Milner

Lord, Send Help. The Boxwoods Still Need Trimming.

Exhaustion: a weary body, a weary soul, a weary heart.

I just woke up from a nap. A much needed, exhaustion-curbing (almost) nap.

Exhaustion is the catch word these days. We’ve passed tired, gone beyond needing a day off, and landed in the middle of exhaustion.

When you reach exhaustion, you’re all out of resources. Unless you’re a Navy Seal, but really, even they seem a bit tired lately what with all the book writing.

Lord, send help.

After waking from my nap and devouring the only food in the house–chips and salsa–and finishing my Chick-fil-A tea. I put my head back and uttered, “Lord send help.”  Like you’d let out a big sigh when you finally sat down after a 16 hour day. Only this was surprisingly accurate words. Lord, send help indeed. When did I start thinking I could do it all? All by myself?

Lord Send Help, The Boxwoods Still Need Trimming, SOS, Transplanted and Still Blooming

I have no idea. But, I remembered the numerous times Israel was up against yet another enemy and the Lord said, stand still and watch what I do, delivering them from their enemy and kicking some butt in the process. I have no butts that need kicking (except perhaps my own), but the supernatural army would come in handy about now, especially if they know how to prune the azaleas, and plant Daub’s Frosted Juniper in the front. Or figure out how to use the new mop I bought six months ago that is so complicated I can’t get the dang kitchen floor clean. If Gabriel can power wash decks and weed the hemlocks, then yes, Lord, send him.

And may I be like Elisha’s servant? Eyes opened to see the armies surrounding me? To see the help that has arrived? I have a to-do list, Lord. I can keep them busy. Though keeping the troops of the Lord busy with domestic chores seems a tad, well, like giving a Navy Seal a weed eater when he should be fighting terrorists. We all have our skill sets.

Then I wondered what I’d actually want help for if he were to send the troops in.

  • Make it rain so I don’t have to water, please.
  • Is it okay to spend money on a vacation this year or not?  (A little fortune telling goes a long way.)
  • Could you bring my mom back? It is Mother’s Day, you know.
  • Send friends. You can only do life alone for so long and then it just gets old.
  • Am I really going to have to work this hard for the rest of my life? I’m so beat.
  • Would you move my grandchildren next door. I’d adore their hugs everyday.
  • And yes, someone to mow grass would be awesome.
  • Cleaning the house wouldn’t hurt.
  • Would you heal my best friend?
  • Would you stop terrorists from terrorizing?
  • Would you make my neighbors nice? By that I mean, would you make them let me use their weed eater?
  • Would you make me nice? By that I mean, make me not bitter about the weed eater.
  • Would you fix my weary soul?

Lord, send help.

Turns out my exhaustion covers more topics than housework, yard work, and work-work.

Exhaustion is like being stranded at sea in one of those small rafts, the water completely still, no wind stirring and no land in sight, but you have to keep rowing someplace–God knows where. It’s just water for miles and blazing hot sun. There’s no end in sight, and jumping overboard looks good because the view is the same in every direction. You’re wondering, what is the point?

I don’t know the point, but I know the Lord, and while I may not need an army to fight a battle for me, I do remember Jesus turning the water into wine at a wedding to save the celebratory day, and this at this mother’s request. She was a tad bossy about it, so I’m guessing Jesus knew the stresses of domestic life. So while I hope he sends armies to where armies are needed, I’m also hoping he’ll at least send a small platoon my way. I still have the boxwoods to trim.

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