I almost didn't go to church today. I just didn't want to. I was up with the baby at 10:30, 12:30, 4:30 and 5:30 last night. My husband closed at work, so he worked from 4:30 pm until 2:00 a.m. That pretty much makes him useless all day Sunday. I'm lucky if he makes it to church on the days after he closes. Though it's better now with him working only 15 minutes away and church not starting until 11 a.m., but I feel like his mother dragging him out of bed at 10:15, begging him to hurry so we won't be late for church.
Anyway, back to the original story. I didn't want to go to church. I'm tired of church through my eyelids. Frankly, it's majorly uncomfortable to try and sit upright in a pew or in a chair for three straight hours as exhausted as I am, not to mention embarrassing at how easily I fall asleep.
I get nothing out of church. Nothing. I don't even feel the Spirit anymore. Can't remember what that feels like, really.
And I knew that if I went to church, I wouldn't get a decent nap at all today. I was right. I got to sleep for about 20 minutes before my husband had to leave for work again. When he left through the garage, that woke the baby up, and I had to get up. Now the baby won't go to bed.
Anyway, I did go to church. I guess my sense of duty is more powerful than my exhaustion. I don't remember a thing that was said. Mostly, though, I went because at 10:15 am, my husband was still not out of bed and the kids were all ready to go. So I got myself dressed (had showered at 5:30 am when the baby wouldn't go back to sleep) and made sure the rest of us were ready. We actually weren't late this time and even got there early enough to sit up front. But still, I hate rushing to church, especially since I'm up at the crack of dawn (actually, much earlier now that it's darker later), and I hate going to church tired. Lately, I find myself not wanting to go to church at all. Yet, still I go. Now that's dedication for you.