Spilled Grape Juice...

This past Sunday morning I was sitting in early service, grateful to be there, but oh so tired after working three twelve hour shifts in a row at the hospital. The service was great but I struggled to remain focused due to sheer exhaustion. We ended the service with communion and wouldn't you know it, my clumsy, tired, inattentive self spilled the grape juice on my white capris. (Why did I wear white?) That moment of inattention precipitated a flood of thoughts. I was feeling like an emotional wreck, physically and mentally spent. The crux of my anxiety wasn't just fatigue but the fact that the time had arrived that my youngest son was leaving home to go to seminary in Kentucky. This isn't the first time that he has gone away, after all, he had lived on his own while in college and had only come home to save some money for this next step to seminary. There is something about this time that has more finality. This is a big move for him. He is embarking on a journey in the Lord's work and we don't know where the Spirit will lead. I know in my head that this is right and good, but in my heart it hurts a lot. I feel like a hot mess, a little like spilled grape juice on white capris. Then it came to me, aren't we called to be poured out. The Spirit fills us and in this walk we are poured out only to seek the refreshing of being filled again. I'm just a clay pot, cracked, chipped, imperfect, waiting for the next filling. Waiting to be poured out...