Dear God –
This is harder than I thought. I thought I could handle this commute, could do this everyday without complaining.
But I can’t.
Yesterday was a long commute for me, four hours. I was tired and irritable by the time I got home at seven-something. I was short and curt with B and The Kid. I felt rushed all last night, like I didn’t have time to just breathe or think.
And this morning I swore I was going to have a nervous breakdown as soon as I hit 580 and saw taillights for miles.
God, I’m not asking for Your or anyone else’s sympathy or pity. And wallowing in my own self-pity doesn’t solve anything. That saying “Don’t cry over spilled milk” comes to mind and there is no point in crying over spilled milk or whatever I should call this.
Maybe I’m just tired, maybe I’m just not settled into routine yet. I have no clue.
But, God, I don’t believe You’ve moved us across the bay for me to whine and cry over what I know I have to do. You’ve blessed B with a job right down the street from our new apartment doing what he spent almost eighteen months in school studying for. You’ve blessed us with nearby family who are so willing to help us when we call, text or email, even if it is last minute. You’ve driven me safely to and from the peninsula for a week now and I’ve not gotten into an accident once. You’ve blessed us with a kid who doesn’t complain when she has to be driven somewhere before dawn.
So, God, I don’t know what I’m asking for except for You to continuously convince me that I’m not going crazy, that You’re still with me, and that all of these “uncontrollable” emotions will pass away as our family settles into a routine and schedule.
And help me find peace during these long hours on the road because when I get home, my family doesn’t deserve to bear the brunt of my annoyance, irritation and tiredness. It isn’t fair to B or The Kid.
And the precious hours I have in the evening with them should be spent laughing, talking, and loving.
Anything else robs us of time we can’t get back.