The everyday hard is what gets me.

Not enough sleep. A fever that spikes when my to-do list is long. The ache of feeling left out. Dreary days without end. Whiny kids. Higher-than-expected bills. And of course, after all that, the just-filled refrigerator that decides to quit.

No singular circumstance makes me crumble so I just keep going, even though my spirit grinds. My joy dissipates, shredded like sawdust at my feet that I frantically scoop back up and hold with sweaty fists. Desperately clinging.

Herein lies the the problem.

What doesn’t shatter us, we try to shoulder. We delay in taking our measure of hard to God because we quantify the magnitude. We consider the small things ours to carry. Instead of beginning with Him, we wait until it’s all too much—until the refrigerator breaks and we realize we are not enough. Not now, not ever.

But what if we begin with being not enough?

How might our communion with the Creator look different if we don’t wait until we break? What if we let ourselves become undone before circumstances force us to our knees?

The everyday hard may not disappear. Leaning into Jesus doesn’t make us less human. But beginning on our knees always unfastens something inside us that sets us free and allows what is hard to become an invitation into more of Him.