|Eva was playing outside with the big kids and wiped out, getting a bloody nose in the process. |
It eventually stopped and she's as good as new. Poor lady...
Ya'll, today I just suck. There's no way around it.
Did you hear the ranting, raving lunatic and the crying children tonight? Ya, that was me.
I need a timecard so that I can just punch out when it all gets to be too much and I'm beside myself. Because then I'm no good and make everyone else beside themselves, too. If only it worked that way sometimes. I think it's called a "babysitter" or something. I didn't have one of those tonight….
It's funny how we can go out of our way to show kindness to the neighbor down the street who lost power for the day, but when it comes to loving and blessing the people under our own roof, it can just be so hard some days. There's a paradox for you. Why is that? Why do we hurt the people that we love the most?
I always swore I wouldn't be that kind of mom. The kind that wounds her kids with angry words that hurt. Words that remain long past the time they were spoken. Words that cut deep, words that tear down the delicate souls of those whose goal in life is to please you. Those who desperately want you to be slow to anger and abounding in love, like God.
I long to be that. My prayer is to be that. But I wasn't today. And I know sorry doesn't take it back, but it's all I can say. Sorry is only a word, though. It can't wipe the tears away.
Deep down I'm afraid that my kids will look at this mess of a life, this mess of a mom, and wonder who this Jesus really is and if He's worth following at all, if I'm going to treat them like this some days. If this Jesus really is who He says He is, why does she hurt us so? Why hasn't He patched up the wounds on my angry heart, sealing them up once and for all so it can't keep spilling out all over them, again?
This life is a journey, and motherhood is, too. They wouldn't call sanctification "progressive" if it happened overnight, and I wouldn't be human if I didn't experience this plight. This tug between the prayer and the reality, the now and the not yet, the offense and the apology. Sorry is just a word, but I pray that it's the repentance they'll see. And the repentance, over time, will become my reality.