I am caught up in a world of chaos.  

Literally.  My neighborhood, my town, my working town, my family, my friends are in a state of cleaning up and putting back together what Irene tore apart.  14 or more hours of wind and rain and saturation will destroy crops and roofs and homes. It will make the rivers rise and steal what was precious on the shore back out to the rivers and leaving those in its wake speechless.  

Mentally.  My schedule has taken a beating.  There is no schedule.  There is no routine.  I'm greeting each day in a sense of panic because I don't know what to expect. 

And I have to know what to expect.  

I was wired that way, you know. 

I am tired.  

Tired of the sadness and hopelessness around me.  Tired of the mess and debris and the heartbroken community.  I'm tired of my house smelling like a hurricane rolled through a week ago.  

I am tired from the roller coaster of emotions this week--August 31 and the great and wonderful and sad and tragic memories it brought to my heart and my eyes.  

I am tired of the day-in and day-out routine that has been taken from me, resulting in less than stellar parenting, less than stellar children's behaviors, and less than stellar meals, overflowing laundry baskets, and not so clean home.  

I am tired from my attempts to keep all the plates perfectly aligned on the poles like a professional circus performer.  

You know the poles.  I'm sure you've got some of your own.  My poles are "clean house" and "fantastic teacher/musician" and "exercise" and "good mom" and "good wife" and "kind friend" and an additional one or two for the ever-growing list of "needs" that need to be plated immediately before they get cold.  

I'm feeling the overwhelming sense of failure before I've tried.  I'm feeling the suffocation of knowing I'm letting others down before I've even started.  I am smiling like a good circus performer, but I'm feeling my facade cracking.  

I know that my responsibilities, my jobs, and my goals are bigger than me.  

And it makes me low.  

But, I'm choosing to let that low feeling remind me that He is bigger.  He is stronger.  He is in control, and He's only giving me what I can handle. 

Thank goodness I'm only holding what's in my hands right this minute.  I can't imagine holding what others around me are going through this morning.  My worries are minute.  

I'm chasing perspective.  

And I'm choosing to put down my other poles and only hold on to "Grace."

His Grace that covers me. 

His Grace that holds me together. 

His Grace that makes me a better person. 

His Grace that makes me the person I was created to be.

I'm so thankful for His Grace. 

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