Dear Journal,

I cannot sleep. For a while I sat here in bed with the lights off, and thought and prayed. I have a headache. It would be so easy to take a sleeping pill, but He knows I need sleep—and how much. And sometimes there are more important things. Like seeing the world outside flooded with moonlight and watching the last log in my fireplace flicker and die, the shadows of the ceiling beams leaping, as it were, in the fire-light. And knowing He is here.

I get snowed with my responsibility at times, and when I do, I fret. And as always it “tends only to evil” (Ps. 37:8 RSV). I get cross and take it out on the kids. Not deliberately. But I am worried about not being a better mother, and then I nag or scold when I should first instruct or correct.

Well, every time I start talking to the Lord about it, God keeps saying, love them. Which seems (or could seem) odd—because I love every ounce of them. But God means “show it.” Let them in on the fact. Enjoy them. You think they are the greatest—let them know you think so.

My head is trying to wise up my heart.

The heart worries, fears the worst, imagines all sorts of things, wants to guide, counsel, control, choose.

The head says, “Lay off. Trust God. Love. Be sympathetic, understanding, patient, confident. Turn loose. And pray.”

from Mothers Together by Ruth Bell Graham