Grace
Sighing, I turned my gaze back to look out the dining room window. Everything was very much brown and bare - bleak like I felt. Even the bird feeders were empty and I added that to the list of my “to do’s.”
The avocados are brown. Too brown, I thought to myself. And Josiah never got to eat them.
I sighed again……
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And it was there on my back porch where I started hearing the birds. The birds always sing in the morning, I thought to myself. No matter how long of a day I had had the day before, no matter what kind of sleep I had gotten or hadn’t, no matter how well-behaved the children were or weren’t, no matter if I had felt that my husband and I had connected with each other or not…The birds always sing in the morning. It was as if they brought me perspective of a clean slate and a fresh start with each dawn’s cheery song……
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I remember asking myself Why am I doing this? as my gloved hands were rolling the rocks around in the tote of bleach water. It was Monday and I was already tired. So very tired. The previous week had been full - followed by a full weekend. There had been school, and church, and then my children had friends over all Sunday afternoon and evening. I had rested somewhat - but not given myself permission to truly check out……
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I recalled that I had slipped my grip on His grace - and was attempting to Supermom all on my own. When in fact, all I had to do was rest in the promise that His strength through my weakness was exactly enough.
My questions Am I doing the right things? Am I doing enough things? buckled under the weight of His gentle and comforting answer:
He was invited into the pain when his older brother came up with the idea.
I was invited into the pain when I heard the scream……
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Doing my dishes every night in 2013 instilled in me a discipline that the work doesn’t get done until you get the work done. Redundant, yes I know.
And as the homemaker, I didn’t expect my husband to do them and my two-year-old and baby were certainly not jumping up to help me wash, dry, and put away either.
Those dishes were left for me. Me.
In the process of washing cup after cup and spoon after spoon, my negative attitude of missing my dishwasher from our previous house changed. Spending a minimum of an hour over that sink every single day forged in me an awareness and an appreciation - even a joy - that I was the one who got to create an orderly and clean home. Me……
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Sunday night I sat him down and stared at him for a minute without talking, truly frustrated and upset that I had lost a few hours’ worth of work. We had ourselves a little stare-off and I realized there was absolutely no way to explain to him in order for him to understand that my document was lost and that I couldn’t figure out a way to find it……
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