“…My cup overflows.“

-Psalm 23:5

I’m taking slow laps around an exam room in the pediatrician’s office. I bend and scoop into my overloaded arms the various objects that caught the interest of my preschooler while I introduced him to his new doctor. The ceilings are so tall in here. My shoulders are tight. “Pup cup! Now! Pup cup!” Benaiah is pulling my shirt, urging me to drive him to a coffee shop for a cup of whipped cream.

We’ve gone from “Has the fluid in his brain increased?” to “Can he draw shapes yet?”

I marvel.

And the second question should feel light.

If I could go back to the me that cradled my sick baby, covered in wires, and whisper, “In four years, you’re going to be stressing about how all the shapes he drew looked the same and whether it’s a big deal.” I would have wept with relief.

“He’s going to be able to draw?” my voice would have cracked.

But the way his doctor’s eyebrows knit together when he saw Benaiah’s attempt, and the gentle way he said, “Let’s get OT to take a look. And I’ll have genetics and speech pathology do another check-in as well.”

They were heavy.

“Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”

-Matthew 11:28

As we’ve traveled from crisis territory to the long stretch of road that is defined by monitoring, support, medication, therapy, and waiting, my adrenaline has ebbed and fatigue has set in. The longer you’ve traveled, the heavier small things can feel.

Every mom worries about whether their child is keeping up. Perhaps every person wrestles with what to expect and how to get through it. If you’re there, I’m with you.

The longer we travel, the more likely it is we’ve picked up something along the way that is starting to grow heavy. Even small additions to our load weigh on us differently. Exhaustion builds. Needs keep coming. Things break down. The pile asking for our attention keeps growing. And we ache over how to spread ourselves when too many important things worthy of focus are getting only our scraps. On the surface: shorter patience, longer sighs, restlessness. Deeper within: we become dry and depleted.

I am finding that is when I need a renewed look at who my God is.

Depletion is not a lack of capacity. It’s a need to be filled.

And sometimes, when we come to be filled up, it reminds us there is more water than we could possibly carry. And the One who is responsible to meet every need has more than one pitcher. It’s okay to let Him fill us up, take us by the handle, and direct our capacity toward one thing at a time.

A pitcher will feel like a failure if it tries to be the well.

“Your unfailing love, O Lord, is as vast as the heavens;
    your faithfulness reaches beyond the clouds.
Your righteousness is like the mighty mountains,
    your justice like the ocean depths.
You care for people and animals alike, O Lord.
How precious is your unfailing love, O God!
All humanity finds shelter
    in the shadow of your wings.
You feed them from the abundance of your own house,
    letting them drink from your river of delights.
 For you are the fountain of life,
    the light by which we see.“

-Psalm 36:5-9

I am not an ever-flowing fountain. But God is. And that means I don’t have to be. I get to fill cups sometimes. But I am not the water. If I love to pour out, I will need frequent refilling. When I hit my limits and sense that dryness, it is not an emergency or a failure – it’s a cue to visit the well. There’s enough water for the needs.

Maybe your heart, like mine, needs to hear it again. There’s enough water for that need.

But it may require more than one trip to the fountain. And it may require more than one pitcher.

Step away. Fill up. Ask your Father what He has in mind for that. Ask for more help. Ask for more water. Give it time. When you don’t have it, He does.

I, for one, am a vessel that has taken some hits. It’s easy, when I’m empty, to look around at the cracks and the places around the edge that have been chipped away. He’ll reach for a vessel that’s in better shape, I think.

Wrong.

He’s reaching for me. He’s reaching for you. So come to the well.

Not only does He not need a vessel that’s in beautiful shape, there are none. We all carry cracks. And no matter how many you bear, you have more carrying capacity than you think in the hands of a God who has no limits. When there’s plenty of water, and plenty of time, and plenty of dry places in need of tending, cracks are just another opening for life-giving water to pour through. Show up as you are and just see how He enters into your brokenness and moves through it.

Are you soul dry?

Is your load heavy?

Give those burdens to the One who can carry them. He cares so deeply for you.

Let your soul rest and fill up on His grace.

He has me. He has you. He has this.

And we are tending to growing things, so we will need more water than we can carry in one trip. So purpose in your heart to notice your dryness and run back for more. Then get ready, because there is drought all around you.

When you walk alongside the burdened and the broken, they may show you their thirst, and you can say, “I know where to find water.”

And when someone wonders, “Where is it you are always going?”

You will get to say to them, “Come and see.”

Oh Lord,

When I am running on fumes, your strength never wavers. When my hope falters, you give more. When my endurance flags, you set your joy before me and encourage me to keep going. When I am soul dry, you are the fountain of life.

Quench my thirst and my worry. You are here as I reach for you. You have seen every step of the journey that has stripped me down, and you care about what pains me. You spill fresh mercy, love and life into my parched and aching places. You stay near me without flinching when my heart cries out that it can wait no longer.

“Be still.” Water soothes my raggedness.

I know I do not need to have or be the answer. I need more of you. All these needs need more of you. And there is more of you to behold. More of you to know and understand. More of you to settle and strengthen tired and heavy souls. Humble my heart so that I refuse to offer them me, when I could offer them you.

Oh Jesus, fill me to the brim as I take in who you are. Then take me by the handle and show me where to pour out next. Give me the courage to empty myself, as you did, because there is always more when I need it.

“You see, we don’t go around preaching about ourselves. We preach that Jesus Christ is Lord, and we ourselves are your servants for Jesus’ sake. For God, who said, “Let there be light in the darkness,” has made this light shine in our hearts so we could know the glory of God that is seen in the face of Jesus Christ. We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.“

-2 Corinthians 4:5-7