So, it’s March. Seriously? When did this happen? Wasn’t it New Year’s Eve two days ago? 

I knew going into this year it was going to begin with a busy stretch. I started  a new job just before Christmas and have spent the last two months working full time while I’ve been getting orientated to my new unit. 

I really struggle with life during these kinds of busy seasons. I want to do it well – to find a way to balance everything – but most of the time I end up exhausted and stressed out – just pushing through in survival mode. 

And the thing about survival mode is that I end up so focused on my own needs, I feel like I can’t be fully engaged in anything else. I struggle to be present with my kids, to be loving and focused on my husband, to be thinking of and journeying with my friends. 

And that’s when Guilt starts talking.     

You should be doing more with the kids, it whispers. You don’t play with them the way you should. You should be challenging their minds more, pouring into them.

Tsk, tsk, it sneers, that laundry is still not folded. And look at those crumbs under the table. When was the last time you vacuumed upstairs? 

You still haven’t sent that email to that friend. She’s been going through such a tough time, and you haven’t reached out once. What kind of Christian are you? 

And speaking of Jesus, how much time have you spent with Him lately? Look at you sitting on the couch watching a show when you should be reading your Bible. 

The accusations are endless. And if I’m not careful, that voice can lead me to dark places. I can begin to believe the lies it wants to feed me: Your kids deserve better. Your husband could have done better. You are not enough. You are a disappointment. 

Thank God for grace.

For kids that squeal in delight when I finally find the time to run around the house with them.

For a husband who doesn’t judge the state of the house when he gets home, but quietly puts the wet clothes he threw in the washer that morning into the dryer, because I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.

For friends that listen when I’m struggling, pray for my heart, and speak words of life and encouragement.

For a God who, this very morning, covered every branch in sight with a thick layer of hoarfrost, and reminded me through the beauty of His creation of the one truth I needed to hear: You are loved. You are loved. You are loved. 

And just like that, I am restored.

So hello March. Let’s do this. 

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