Post By: Angela Parlin
Sometimes I’ve had a not-so-fun day at home with my kids. When my husband walks in and asks about our day, I let it all roll out. And what rolls out is a list of complaints, how everything went horribly for me. “I had to deal with ____ and take care of ____ and then they ____ and so I had to ____.”
As I recount the day’s battles, I sink deeper and deeper into my desire to just call it a day and go to bed, in hopes that I’ll wake tomorrow, having forgotten it all. In hopes that tomorrow, everything will be different.
When things are hard, I’m far more aware of my hardships than my treasures.
My hard days are not the whole story of my life, but I start to feel like they are. And I sink lower, because of my awful perspective.