I promise you, you will get lots of things wrong this week.

You will lose your temper. You will say words you wish you could swallow.

You will be frustrated and frazzled and tired and unable to face the dishes in the sink. You will feel scared and uncertain and unable to take one more step forward, rock through one more frustrated feeding time, clean up one more mess by the dog, the toddler, the hamster who spews shredded tissue all over the world.

You will question your sanity and your wall colors and want to make a McDonald’s, drive-through, hot fudge sundae run at midnight.

You will ache without being able to identify why or exactly where.

Your body will just ache.

But you will push in the chairs. You will vacuum. Again. You will make it with all three kids to the doctor’s appointments. You will schedule meetings and make dinner out of left over chicken and lettuce.

You will talk to a friend.

You will love on someone’s baby.

You will do the quiet work of the life long heroes. The people who aren’t in it for the glory. The people who are in it for the journey.

So come Friday, it’s OK to feel tired.

Because you done good. You done real good.

 

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