There has to be something in this for me to learn, but I”m just not seeing it.

There has to be reasons for compiled difficulty, compressed trouble and squeezed-together anguish.

I cannot see the good yet:

In my personal worry,

In my own heartache for my daughter who tells me truthfully she has no friends.

In my three-year-old’s preschool tantrum resulting in a trip to see the principal.

In every request being met with disobedience.

All at once.  All right now.

There has to be something more to learn here:

When it seems like writing this book will exact a pound of flesh and a million hours by the time it is complete.

When I feel like I have no time for my own husband, the love of my life, until after ten o’clock at night.

When the words I speak in my own house echo in the hall as if I never spoke them.

I’m trying to see it today but I just can’t.

I’m worried and stressed and I’m disappointed in myself.

But as I write this I understand exactly what is in it for me.

The gentle affection of a three-year-old after she’s stopped crying. The quiet conversation I have with my seven-year-old about friends, making and keeping, and about how to guard your heart.  The privilege of looking across the pillow and seeing my husband and the richness of our relationship because we’ve saved up words all day long to exchange late at night. One more opportunity to trust God, humble myself to ask for prayer and start over with a raw and tender heart once again.

That’s what’s in it for me.

What’s “in it for you” today?