It was a busy Saturday. I knew the Thursday before that there was going to be no room for anything else in my schedule. The day started with an 8am doctor appointment, followed by drum lessons, watching a football game, and spending the afternoon helping my son with his English assignment. I knew all this going into the weekend; it was planned out perfectly in my head, down to the fact that I had a brief window at 11am to prepare dinner.

Saturday came, and it lived true to my expectations. I was moving from the moment I got out of bed, hopping from one task to the next. I was ready for this day; what I wasn't prepared for is how it made me feel.

7pm came. The appointments were done, the essay was written, the family was fed, and the kitchen cleaned up. I should have felt accomplished, and yet I felt empty.

I stepped outside to take a minute for myself, and the tears began to flow. Why? Exhaustion. I had worked hard. This pain was deeper, though.

As I pondered my tears, I...