At the end of the day these days, days that are full of teaching and planning and then reading and grading essays; days that, in their waning hours, are full of children and their homework and their piano practice and finding something for dinner and tucking people in and trying to find time for some housework; days that, at their end, find me sitting next to two loads of unfolded laundry in the basket, too exhausted to fold…
There
Is
Nothing
Left
Of
Me.
What do you suppose it means when the Psalmist says, “He restores my soul”?
I’m looking for that these days.
