Monday, which would rank up there as one of the least pleasurable days of my mothering career, I wrote a post. Perhaps a few of you read it. It was deleted shortly after posting.
The last time I did such a thing occurred at the same time of the month as now. Sensing a trend, I have prohibited myself from writing during the peak time of month in which Cruella DeVille wordlessly takes over my body. No good thing, including blogging, comes of it. So I might as well keep to myself in every way possible in order to avoid spreading the misery. I believe in keeping it real, but I also find it distasteful to serve up too much 'whine'.
Yesterday I woke up, resolving and praying to have a BETTER day than the one before. The night before I had placed digital clocks in the boys and girl's rooms, made gigantic renderings of a "7:00" with bold, Sharpie pen ink and their father and I both went over (and over, and over) that they are not, for any reason short of life-threatening emergencies (bathroom or otherwise), to "appear" by our bed OR descend to the lower levels of the home until they see a "7" as the first number on their alarm clocks. The following morning they did relatively well. Naturally, it wasn't perfect. Christopher yelled down that Mackenzie had peed on two different spots on the carpet (having removed her own diaper for whatever reason). I firmly told them to go back to bed until the first number they see on their alarm clocks is a bright red "7". I wasn't about to let urine soaked carpet to interfere with the enforcement of the "new laws of the land".
In the brief space of time between my glorious shower and breakfast, I had time to read this verse:
May Jesus Himself, who reached out in love and surprised you with gifts of unending help and confidence, put a fresh heart in you, invigorate your work, enliven your speech.
~ 2 Thess. 2:16/17.
This personal promise from God was a breath of refreshing air for a woman weary in the work of motherhood.Again I was reminded that in the grit and gore that motherhood sometimes (ok, make that often) brings, I am not left hanging to do this on my own....that during certain times of the month and times of any day during every month when I find myself struggling to give anything remotely close my personal best, it is not my own depleted strength I have to struggle to . It's His. It is mine for the taking.
HE will...
...surprise me with HELP in unexpected places (such as a pantry I can take refuge in to collect myself),
....CONFIDENCE when I am at wits end with a particular child,
...a FRESH heart when mine feels strung out and just.plain.exhausted.(and can't gather any enthusiasm about "doing it all over again tomorrow")
...a new day in which my perspective is INVIGORATED as I go about my work (despite my doubt the night before it was possible)
...and a mouth that SPEAKS kindness more than it barks orders at little ones I love more than myself.
And this is why I can say "It's all good". {That, and the fact that first thing, flying against the advice given in the first parenting book I've ever read, the children were all eased into the day with a brief period of hypnosis courtesy of Curious George. Like any good mother would do, I did provide bananas. That curious little monkey has been my 'help' in unexpected places more than once. I realize that sounds incredibly pathetic, but I cannot tell a lie. Latin lessons don't do a thing for my children. Sorry.}
Here is to a day, my friend, of God~inspired confidence and invigoration for whatever duties set before us today!
Thanks for dropping by!
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