"Come to me all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28
The past 72 hours have been the most exhausting and trauma filled in my life. I watched as my husband used physical strength to keep multiple people safe. I woke in the middle of the night to alarms and defiance. I learned that the police who work graveyard shift are just normal guys who went to the dentist on Tuesday.
My heart is pulsing at a faster rate these past few days. I know. I've checked. The alarm system in our house is as loud as a fire truck. Sounds like a fire truck. Repeatedly says "Intruder Alert, Intruder Alert, Intruder Alert." And it is slowly cause small doses of PTSD in me.
Two evenings ago, Austin and I found ourselves on the floor of a storage closet, crying. Surrounded by mop cleaner, granola bars and contraband items. We were a mess.
Sleep. We needed sleep. Like that "I've been traveling internationally and stuck in a terminal for two days I need sleep," sleep." But this level of tired pushes beyond physical dreariness. This job has tested the limits of our mental capacity, our marriage, and our faith.
I to the NorthWest in 144 hours - but who is counting? All I want to count right now is sheep.
