By the time I had arrived yesterday at the piano teacher’s house to pick up my son, I was exhausted. Mondays are crazy — running here and there doing school carpool and then piano and then dinner and then Family Home Evening. It’s not a bad crazy — I love being there with and for my family — but sometimes that kind of craziness can be hard for this chronic fatiguey body of mine.
So when I walked into my friend’s house, I was feeling like I wanted to just collapse on her carpet and cry. Or sleep. Or something.
But I didn’t. Instead, I plopped myself down on the chair behind the piano while she finished talking to my son…telling him how he could do hard things.
It wasn’t even the words (although now in retrospect, I needed those words perhaps more than he did). It was the feeling that came over me. I’ve felt it before with this friend — an overwhelming warmth that I feel is God reminding me that He put this friend into my life. That He is aware of me and my life.
I’m so grateful. Grateful for tender mercies. Grateful for angel friends. Grateful for whispers from heaven.
Yes, I can do hard things.