Dear friend,
From the end of the earth, I will call to you when my heart is overwhelmed. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
I sat in the car in my own driveway last week for eleven minutes before I went in to relieve my mother-in-law. Just sat there. Radio off. I wasn't praying, I wasn't thinking anything useful, I was just not-yet-inside. That gap between the car and the door has become a whole room in my life I didn't ask for.
I'm not going to pretend I know the shape of what you're carrying, only that caregiving for someone rearranges the day around a body that isn't yours and a schedule you didn't choose. It eats the middle of the afternoon. It eats sleep. Nobody sends a card for the eleven minutes in the driveway.
There's a line in Psalm 61 about being led to a rock higher than she is, when her heart is faint. Not a rock she climbed to. Led to it. That distinction has been sitting on me.
I'm not writing today to fix anything about your week. I just wanted to say the word out loud so it isn't only in your head. What does the hardest hour of your day actually look like right now?
A prayer
God, You know the exact hour that wears her down most. Meet her there, in the actual room, not the tidy version. Be the rock she's led to when her own strength runs out. Amen.