I've been overwhelmed the past couple days. My to-do list is lengthy, my prayer list longer. Many of the needs are weighty, serious. Some seem like I've been laying them at His feet for ions. My heart throbs with impatience, longing to see an answer, wondering how much longer I have to plead. Yes, God has granted peeks at answers, literal "glimmers of hope" to remind me that He hasn't forgotten, that He's still at work. But for whatever reason those glimmers have dulled and keep slipping from the forefront of my mind where they ought to be.
Last night I hit the breaking point. Funny how it's the little things that push me over the edge. The pup -- yeah that cute little thing from a couple posts ago -- decided to dig in the mud at bedtime, track it all over my new carpet, and initiate a rousing game of keep away when I tried to hose off his feet. I thought labs were supposed to like water ... ? Someone forgot to tell Koa. As I knelt and scrubbed carpet, my eldest, who should have been fast asleep, softly crept next to me and told me to close my eyes and open my hands. I resisted the urge to tell her I wasn't in the mood and send her back to bed. Instead, I complied and felt a piece of paper fall lightly into my palm. On my knees, emotional, I opened my eyes and saw evidence of a child who hadn't yet considered sleep. Instead she had been making a card.
Cool down, I love you.
I hope you feel better in the morning.
You know, have a fresh start. :-)
I love you lots,
Of all my children, this is the one I fight to understand. She is an anomaly to me and we have had our share of duels. In my struggle to relate to her, I haven't always been nice. (Or I could say, in our struggle to relate to each other we haven't always been nice.) I get frustrated, impatient, desperate for simple obedience without the constant questioning the brilliant mind she got from her daddy demands. Her compassion, empathy, concern for this undeserving mama humbled me. No, that's not completely accurate. It simultaneously warmed and broke my heart. Grace does that. Is mom-guilt part of the gig? Does it have to be? I'm not particularly a fan. If I could just achieve perfection, it wouldn't be an issue, but alas, I can't seem to get there!
Sometimes I read Peter's promise that "love covers a multitude of wrongs" (1 Peter 4:8) and it seems too good to be true. That there can't be enough grace to cover the days that I'm rotten. Tender moments like last night make me think that maybe there is. That maybe my kids know, despite my tantrums and faults and failures, how much I love them. That just possibly, by God's grace, I'm doing something right and they are learning to look beyond themselves, love, empathize, forgive. Huh. Maybe in that little card that now hangs on my refrigerator, God was giving me another glimmer of hope. A message to remind me He's still working.