Take deep breaths. Calm your racing heart. Let the world stand still for just a moment.
Breathe.
It's hard to know how to put everything that's been going on in our lives into words. I don't even understand how such conflicting emotions can be present in my heart at the same time, so I doubt I can make you, dear readers, understand.
This month has been trying. This month has seemed impossible. The one thing that I needed to take on this month was grace, and it was the one thing I refused to ask for. I have exhausted my own strength and have trusted in many things other than God's grace to make it through. When I took the above photo, I was bemoaning the fact that after I had finally kicked the really, really bad infection in my tonsils, I was getting a sinus infection. I turned on Netflix for the boys and miserably sat to the side, telling myself that I could not survive if they needed me to do even one thing for them.
My days have been ruled by whether or not nap time was successful. Lydia has had a really rough go of life this month, and many naps have been boycotted and replaced with the delicate dance of pleasing a snotty and sad barnacle baby. I don't know if it is just me or if other moms can relate, but sometimes a missed nap can honestly feel like the end of the world. It's a fog that I can't see out of, and I can't see straight. Rarely, I'm able to look past myself and realize that spending extra time with just my girl isn't a bad trade-off. Even so, it's usually detrimental to the trajectory of the day. A missed nap should NOT make me lose confidence in life. Again, it's so obvious to me that I have not been relying on God and His word for the strength to sustain me.
Being grateful for my life and for my children has been a constant battle as of late. I have been so incredibly selfish. I'm looking for ways to keep them occupied so I am not required to intervene or direct them in any way. It seems like I'm doing everything I can to avoid all of the things I know I should be doing.
I'm praying for a change of heart towards the task I have been given in looking after these three little ones. I need to view it as my privilege, not my bane. I love them so very, very much, but it frightens me to realize that my actions show that I love myself more.
The thing that needs to change most of all is not our daily routine. I've tried that. Getting physically healthy and improving my self image won't even scratch the surface of what's wrong. I've tried that, too. Filling my day up with people can only serve to gloss over the festering pool that is my own heart, which only becomes apparent when I'm alone. Even sanity-savers like kicking the boys outdoors when they get antsy, or filling the tub and letting them have a good, long soak can't solve the problem. The problem lies with me, in my own heart.
And, in the midst of my astonishing self-centredness and the ripple effects it has on our whole family, we've had to deal with some other really annoying things. Chest colds. Tonsillitis. Baby separation anxiety. Poor milk production and a baby that absolutely refuses anything but me.
But, all of sudden, these things didn't matter so much when we received news that a wonderful, amazing, godly woman had passed away. She's always been somewhat of a mother-figure to me, especially when my parents lived a province away and I was young and single. I have always treasured her counsel and learned so much from how she cared for her husband and her four young girls. She had been battling lung cancer for a year and half. This trial only served to increase her and her family's faith in Jesus, and they held on to hope that she would be healed through it all. And, when Jesus decided to take her home to be with him, they didn't fight it. They didn't hold their position and argue with God. They humbly bowed their heads to their Creator and glorified Him for His perfect care over her. I truly believe there was an outpouring of the Holy Spirit at her funeral and there will be much fruit from her death. It still hurts, though, to say goodbye. I was amazed by how God's spirit upheld and sustained her husband and daughters as 1000 people came to her funeral to say goodbye.
I don't know how to explain it, but something has changed in my heart since I witnessed her laying in a casket and heard of God's work in her life. A fire has been lit that has long since gone out. I'm still struggling with my sin nature (and will until the day I die), but things have changed. I've repented of my selfishness, and God has drawn me to His throne of grace to ask for help in time of need.
Grace isn't a warm hug. It's divine POWER.
By God's grace, I am able to be patient with my children. By God's grace, I'm able to discipline them while pointing them to Holy God and Christ sacrificed for their sins. By God's grace, I'll be able to do all the tasks set before me in a day - and do them well.
By God's grace, I'll learn to find my strength in His word, and I'll come to a point where I can't go a day without it.
By God's grace, I'll be sanctified and conformed to the image of Christ, bit by bit. By God's grace, my children and husband will see this transformation.
"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong" (2 Corinthians 12:9-10, ESV).
