I am at the end of myself. I'm relying on strength that I, honestly, do not possess. I don't know where the strength is to put one foot in front of the other, to be patient with the baby that never stops screaming and the 5 year old who talks all the time, to wake up to nurse after only 45 minutes of sleep. I don't know how to do it any more.
And then I remember: He is our miracle baby.
And I see this face: And I help the sweet 5 year old chase down the mail lady to send off her very-first-ever hand-made (all by herself) card.
And then I got the best reward of all: the tightest hug and whispered words "Thank you for helping me, Mama. I love you."
And I realized that the strength never comes from me. It comes from God. It comes from Him through my children. He will continue give me the strength to be (a little bit) patient, to nurse when I just need some sleep, to show grace and compassion when I don't have any more grace and compassion. It's never within me.
These are my miracles. I can do it...even though I'm at the end of myself.