It's one of those mornings...which follows one of those evenings. If you've been there, you know what I mean. One conversation at the end of a meeting...a hurting soul, who hints that it is at least partially your fault, or the church's fault; again.
You know the morning. The night before, you take a while to settle, and get that song out of your head. You read a little extra late, and then wake hours early, for good. And so you get up and start the day, trying to focus on your joys, but with limited success--because you can't wipe away the hurt in their eyes. And you wonder how deep this will go?
Because people who get hurt easily, and add weight to your days, (and exact sleep from your nights) have a way of speaking with others. And even though you know their influence has been weakened by their patterns, their words still register in the minds of those you love, and who love you, and who vote for/or against your leadership.
It's taken a few decades, but I think I'm learning to let it go. (That's probably why I'm up a little after three this morning, huh?) There's nothing like loving a group of people unconditionally...sort of. And there's nothing like knowing that nearly all of those who serve alongside you, love you back, unconditionally...sort of. And they, the weak and the strong, help you hang in, and not run away.
And my pattern of reading five Psalms a morning, and hearing the honesty of the writers, and casting my cares to the night sky, and praying some ancient prayers, and praying some that are new today before the dawn gets anywhere near the horizon; that pattern yields fruit. For there is One who is faithful like the morning, and unconditional like the tide, and who never burdens me with my weaknesses.