A Broken Shoe

Yesterday I worked 12.5 hours with fussy fat baby. It was Sunday and on Sundays I go to church. Sure, taking someone else's baby to church is different than most Sundays, but still...I was determined.

Well, fussy fat baby was SUPER fussy. But that wasn't going to stop me.
Getting a baby and all required accoutrements together is no small feat. But that wasn't going to stop me.
I thought church was at 10. It was at 1045. That wasn't going to stop me either.
Walking into church my shoe broke. That stopped me.

And there were tears. 

Sometimes you just have to throw your broken shoe in the car and take yourself home...or, in this case, to fat baby's house. 

I know it was just a shoe. But I had overcome so much to just get to the church parking lot...it would have been so much easier to just stay home with the baby and forget about church. But I was set on worshipping Christ today. In that building. With those people. At 1045. But I let a dumb shoe bring me to tears.

Lately, it doesn't take much. There's just been so much change in my life that my compass is spinning and that's hard for me. I know there are people going through actual things in their lives...disease, death, hardships...and for you I will continue to pray. But today, my silly shoe felt like a hardship. 

And to me, it wasn't just a shoe. It was a sign...a sign that no matter what I do it's never enough, that I'm never going to reach my goals, that I'm on the wrong path, etc, etc, etc...

But really, it's just a sign that I've worn out those shoes...

Time to simmer down and right my ship so the compass stops spinning.

And I know I can't do it alone...it's all about Jesus, because if a broken shoe can bring me to tears, I know I can't be trusted with the heavy lifting...