Seems no matter how I go about my day, I can't win any of the wars in this life. I checkout a book from the library I'm sure my son will like, only to hide it under the couch after the thirteenth consecutive read. I get him to sleep for three hours in the afternoon, but then lose two hours fighting with him to go to sleep that night. I purchase a mop to make floor cleaning easier on my back and knees, and fail to buy one that is self-wringing. I set out to wash the dishes, only to slice open my thumb with a knife and spend the next twenty minutes applying pressure to stop the bleeding.
Rooms I clean are immediately cluttered. Floors I scrub are instantly sullied. Clothes, blankets, towels, and diapers I wash, fold, and put away are promptly soiled. Newton's third law of motion seems to apply to the forces of helpfulness and destruction as well. "No rest for the weary," my grandmother would say.
I suppose if winning these battles of life was my only aim, I would give up. I'd get a job, send my kid to the sitter, and hire a maid. Then I could cling to the illusions of victory- a pay check, a socialized child, a clean house. But even these offer nothing but weariness. I'm not working to win any earthly prize. Rather, I'm doing the tasks God has given me to do while I'm here. Frustrating as it may be, I rejoice in my toiling and take my defeat in stride. For there is nothing better than to be joyful and take pleasure in all my toil, knowing that my reward is in heaven, where juice does not stain, and syrup does not stick.