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I hate to admit it, but it’s true. A complete meltdown. It has been a very long time since I’ve had one, and a long time in the making. And of all the things to set it off, it was the washing machine and the inch of water on the laundry room floor leaking through the wall into the kitchen and flowing into the dining room. It was the smell and the thought of being faced with either a repair bill or not being able to have clean clothes and towels or bedding or anything else. It was living in a 100+ year-old house with so many things that need to be fixed and worked on and kept up. It was the aloneness and the judgment of being in this place of financial need at this time in my life. It was having to be the strong one for so many years, the one who is always there for my kids and my family and my friends and basically everyone else, the one who never loses it and just keeps on keeping on. It was facing the brokenness of my self and the loss of failed relationships. And in the end, it was the kindness and tenderness demonstrated by my 21-year-old son when he heard his mother’s sniffles as I was backed into the corner trying to stop the flow – from under the washer and out from between my eyelids.

In the end, the pain could be suppressed no longer, not even to protect my son – or myself. The dam broke and I learned that my son does not need to be protected, at least not from his mama’s meltdowns. And then we worked together to clean up the mess, traipse to the laundromat, and restore some semblance of sanity.

Not bad for a Saturday afternoon. But now I am completely spent; waiting for faith to have its way and display its fruit once again. Come, Lord Jesus, and restore Your rest to my soul!

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