Muscle

I’ve always been pretty wimpy. On my high school volleyball team, when we lifted weights, I was consistently the one who bench pressed and etc. the smallest amount of weight. It was kinda embarrassing, although my coaches knew I was trying hard. Whenever we go bowling (like once every three years), I share a ball with my preschooler, otherwise I can’t get the thing down the lane. 

I think I got a little stronger when each of my boys were babies and I had to lug them around in their car seats. The car seat alone isn’t light and my babies were all chunky monkeys within a couple of months. Add a diaper bag, groceries, toddlers and dirty kleenexes and that’s a lot of weight. 

My ten year old is already as strong as me. I found that out when we were wrestling a bit (for the last time).

So, physically, I don’t have much to brag about. I’m okay with it. My husband (and kids) know they have to open jars for me.

When it comes to everything else, I also know my limited strength supply. I know undoubtedly that I would crumble without God to be my muscle. 

The Lord is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation. 
Ps. 118:14 

Nehemiah 8:10 says in part: “the joy of the Lord is your strength“. Just thinking about the Lord brings enough joy to fill me with strength for the day.