After a week of the stomach flu at our house I am exhausted. Please don’t wish for more hours in the day, I’m staggering by dinner.
I go to bed knowing that the sticky dishes will still fill the sink in the morning and the laundry left in the dryer will be wrinkly. It’s easy to begin feeling like everything depends on me.
But it doesn’t.
And so I sing to my daughters (but mostly to myself) of the One who holds the world together with his voice.