Three minutes in the bathroom with the door locked so I can catch my breath because it was one of those days in a long line of those days. It wasn’t because I’m a bad mom or because I have bad children. It is because I’m human and I can only run on fumes for so long.
Three minutes in the bathroom with the door locked so I can catch my breath was perfect. Not because of the beauty of the location (obviously, it’s just a bathroom), it wasn’t because of the five star services I received (again, it’s just a bathroom), but it was because of what I chose.
I chose to take three minutes in the bathroom with the door locked to pray. My soul was given a moment of rest because of the company of my Savior (yes, even in the bathroom) and because of the Scripture that bubbled up like fresh water to the scorched earth of heart.
I could have sat in the bathroom for three minutes with the door locked and bemoaned my situation, grumbled to myself about how I need a break and how hard my life is (eye roll), or relived all the “bad stuff” that had happened in the previous eight hours. And if I had done so I would have exited the bathroom in the same or worse state than I had entered.
It doesn’t take a vacation, a trip to the salon, or a night out with your girlfriends to be restored, although I’d take those in a heartbeat. Really, the only requirement is pausing with Jesus; even if it is for three minutes in the bathroom with the door locked.