March 25, 2015
Between the hours of 9 and 11 a.m. on Tuesday, I said (read: yelled) the following to the following:
“Christian, get away from that snake.”
“Please do not bury mommy’s shoes in the flowerpot ever again.”
“Where is all this snot coming from?”
“I hate Spring Break.”
“Why are you crying?”
“Do not pour dirt on your brother.”
“It is not necessary to break the crayons in half before you use them.”
“That is not a good reason to cry.”
“Those pistachios do not go in my bed.”
“My cardigan is not a towel.”
“Why did you wipe your nose on the chair?”
“Please stop crying.”
“I hate Spring Break.”
I am stressed.
I have both a baby and a book manuscript due in a matter of days and I don’t have time to think about either one because I’m busy thinking about the other one and/or because the kids are on Spring Break and therefore creating the above scenarios.
There’s also the mold and pollen that have clogged me senseless, and then there’s this silly blog to write.
I am stressed.
And, also, maybe a tad unprepared…
People keep asking us what the baby’s name will be, and I keep putting them off because we’re just not sure either.
We currently do not own a single diaper that will fit a newborn.
If it’s a girl, she will be wearing blue socks. If it’s a boy, he will sleep on a pink paisley crib sheet.
Life is moving along as it always does, and this is what happens.
Sorry, Kiddo #4. We promise to love, feed and nurture you, but we cannot promise you gender-appropriate footwear.
Because Mommy is stressed, and blue socks will work just as well as pink.
I wish I had a reset button for this day of my life, but I don’t.
Instead, I am leaning on the promise that every day’s tomorrow is fresh and that God’s mercies are new. I can’t take back the ugly that came out of mouth or the complaining that most certainly suggests that I didn’t pay well enough attention to last week’s blog or the feelings of unpreparedness that have brought on the anxiety that fueled the stress…
But I can ask forgiveness and move on. I don’t have to dwell in my sin. Where it’s always embarrassing to admit failure, it also means that I can stop acting like I didn’t do whatever it was I did and just go ahead and walk in truth.
I did it. It’s over. And I’m sorry.
Now was that so hard?
This post is short today because I am stressed and I do have other things to do.
I don’t know when this baby will come or if I will post next week, but, thank you, Faithful Reader for sticking it out with me this long and (hopefully) rejoining me when I return. You’ve been endlessly kind, and I don’t deserve you.
In the meantime, enjoy the freedom of forgiveness with me, would you?
Let Jesus remind you that if you have trusted in Him, you don’t have to keep bathing in the failure of your sins.
Say your sorry to whomever you need to say you’re sorry to, and move on. You are free from that burden, and so am I.
Thank you, Jesus.
Let’s start fresh together. Today. Now.
Who’s with me?
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