When I was a child Mondays didn’t really make much difference; sometimes I even liked them because I got to go back to school.
It’s only since I’ve been an adult that I don’t like Mondays.
This morning hit me hard since I didn’t sleep good, we’re living in a basement because our house hasn’t sold, my eyes react to something where we’re living, I’ve got 500 things that need done, my middle child has done nothing but fuss, and we’re out of cheese.
It sounds awfully whiny when I type it out.
In the midst of my begging the Lord to please make my life better my mind was filled with examples of other women.
I’m better off than
- Eve, whose one son was murdered and the other cursed to wander.
- Naomi, who lived through her husband’s and sons’ deaths.
- Job’s wife, whose children were all killed.
- Leah, who had many sons but knew she was not the one her husband wanted.
- Esther, who didn’t know that she would live through seeing the king.
- Many women who live through bad circumstances or serious health problems every day.