Taking My Cues
I came to the top of the stairs for the eightieth time since the clock struck eight that morning. I was greeted with the sound of rolling laughter paired with a steady stream of urine hitting the floor. There in the middle of the door frame stood my fully potty trained son, peeing on the carpet, not because he couldn't hold it, but because he decided that the sibling-composed crowd milling around him needed some top-notch entertainment and this was the best he could come up (or out) with. No one was laughing quite as hard as he was at his own fountain impersonation act, especially not his mother. I huffed and I puffed and I threw a hand towel down on the patch of urine before resuming the task of wiping dried poop off the upstairs toilet seat.
It is moments like this (which are many, not during a WEEK, but a DAY) in which I think:
"I was made for more than this".
We were driving to no where in particular, just driving as we do on days where the afternoon has no foreseeable end. From the middle seat, a question comes out of no where, directed to yours truly.
"Mom? What would have happened if Jesus would have stayed on the cross?"
Umm....well...that's a REALLY good question, I tell him as my brain is suddenly on full alert, tripping over itself to find a suitable kindergarten-level (or any level) answer. As I stumble through a disjointed answer to a insightful question, I think to myself:
"I am so not equipped to answer these questions!"
The glow from the early morning sunrise starts to light the living room where I am cuddled on the couch with a rested three year old who snuggles down deeper in the nest my legs have made. I hear his contented little sigh. I take in the new morning, fresh mercies and marvel that the vortex of insanity I get so easily swept up in the afternoon/evening before can be so quickly but a foggy memory after a decent night's sleep. As they each descend in their own unique ways to greet the day...and me, the woman they still miraculously love, I am able to see the light of the reality that is too often lost in the noise of non-stop requesting and raucous that comes from five siblings with only three years between them:
"I am not deserving of this role of raising these impressionable young souls"
On any given day, there is a smattering of "feelings" that come with the responsibilities of the jobs we have been given. The days in which I "feel" completely equipped, utterly satisfied and zealously passionate about my performance during every moment of it are rare, and perhaps SHOULD be. If I played out my part flawlessly, there would be no need to look towards stage right or stage left for Divine direction.
The fact is, feelings have a part to play in how I view my role on the stage of my life, but they are a bit part at best. The fact is also that the part I'm living out is the one that was written with me, and only me, in mind as the Divine Playwright wrote it out before time. God put the characters and the scenarios we ad-lib our way through, together on purpose, for a purpose. There is no audience approval I need to look for over my shoulder (easier typed out than done), and I can even feel like my performance deserves a crushing review on most days, but as long as I am consistently looking to the Director for my cues, I've got to trust that when the curtain closes to this season of my life, that it will have been enough.
I have been working hard on the development of the new online magazine Neighborlies, and have largely ignored this online journal. It has been made very clear to me I can barely do two things (well) at one time and I am still working to find that balance. Since we launched and are on our coming up on our fourth issue, I am seeing a little bit more room to keep up writing on the Coffee Cottage. Looking forward to darkening the doors of this online Cottage more frequently.
As always, thank you for dropping by!