This is the reality and it struck me hard

It struck me on Friday - struck me hard. I can't do this.

Whatever made me think I could?

I was painting the top of a gazebo purchased on eBay (one of my husband's many bargains) and it was upside down and fiddly and failing to stay still. It knocked over the tin of paint before swinging painfully  into me. Struck me hard.

I shall not share what I screamed at the top of my voice.

Meanwhile there were 4 rooms urgently needing a coat of paint, a polytunnel to weed and a raspberry patch which had run out of control while we were away.

Too much to do.  I can't do it all. I can't get this place ready in time for the first Preview Retreats.

I felt that, hard.

* * *

I spent Saturday painting a bedroom.

One room, walls painted - twice. But not the woodwork.

No-one else was able to come and help. That struck me hard. I felt isolated and unloved. Even though I know people are busy - and why should they  come and help? This is my calling, my vision, my hard-to-walk path.

And the walls of one room makes such a tiny drop in an ocean of stuff to be done. How can it be sufficiently ready for our furniture to arrive on Thursday? Three rooms at least need to be painted and cleaned, to store our stuff. Not that we can move in - just to store it, piled high.

It struck me hard.

I can't do this.

* * *

Sunday afternoon- at 2pm the raspberries looked like this:

Four hours later there was an improvement - I was half way through.

I stopped half way through.

Exhausted.

It struck me hard again: there is just too much to do.

I can't do it.

I really can't.

* * *

I wandered around before leaving - looking for some pretty photos as usual, for this blog post.

And decided it's time to show the raw truth.

It's a building site.

For six months we have lived with the builders. They have worked hard. But there is still a long way to go.

How long, O Lord, how long?

* * *

Then I began to photograph some of the good things.

And I remembered.

His Grace is made perfect in my weakness. Therefore I will boldly say, the Lord is my helper.

His Grace is all I need.

And if His Grace is an ocean, we are all sinking.

I don't know who posted this on Face book - but I am so glad they did.

His Grace. I am sinking.

That struck me hard.