I sit in the first quiet I’ve heard all day. The kids are asleep, dinner is merely a scent lingering, dishes are soaking, and the house is tucked in for the night. It’s the first time all day I haven’t felt stress.
Some days are more stressful than others. Sometimes it’s what we fill our day with that makes it stress-filled. Sometimes it’s what lacks that brings stress.
But I’m learning a secret about stress.
Stress is not from God. Not only is it not from God, it’s all from me.
Stress is my attempt to control what is not mine to control. It is my way of getting my fingers on the arm of some moment or issue and grasping it until I’ve left an impression. Only the bruise is my own.
There will be hardship, the Bible promises it.
But I don’t need to wring the life out of it.
Maybe these moments filled with stress that make my fingers gnarled and my temple burn, maybe these moments are the ones that cry out for one thing.
And in the stillness and the knowing, there is the exhale.
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