It hangs over my head-the suffocating blanket of lack of control-and I do what I can-what I hope will ease it. Yet it's a daily struggle, every time I step onto the broken floor, see dishes in the hall bathroom *rare, but it happens* or the boxes slowly getting added to in the living room, and I cannot wait for it to be over. Yet, I'm reminded that this is such a first world problem, and I look for peace. I don't have to go far to be reminded of blessings in front of me-but yet I look for peace. It comes in waves, and I look to cling to them.
My reading material to get me through: No More Perfect Moms and Unglued. Both authors, respectively, Jill Savage and Lysa TerKeurst, I find relatable, honest, and real. I need that. My sanity needs that.
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