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?
It’s a good thing you give us a peek into your humanity or, with the load you carry, we might mistake you for superwoman! What is the next book about? Wish I could meet you at the park and watch your children bury your shoes. Blessings on this new babe!
Goodness, superwoman?? Janet, if only you could be a fly on the wall in my house…perhaps that would bring you to your senses. 🙂 And it’s the next book in the God BLess series. It will be out next January, Lord willing. And, YES! Please!! Come to the park with me! It would only be a few several thousand miles, right??
Prayers for a safe and healthy delivery (and a break in the stress). Don’t worry…we’ll be here when you return. 😉 If you need a cousin to take some kids off your hands for a little while, you need only call. The girls might have to endure though because we don’t have pink socks at our house either…
Thank you, Rhonda. Your willingness to help is greatly appreciated…though you might be sorry you did!! 🙂
Praying for you, sweet mama!
Thank you, Allison. Without prayer…goodness, I’d be a mess. I’ll take all I can get!
Loved this. Sorry for your struggle. But thankful for my gain as I read about your struggle.
I’m praying for you, sweet Hannah. And for the gender-unknown Baby Four. Oh, your hands are full.
I was reading today in Deuteronomy about God taking the Israelites into the land and it was not a land like Egypt where they planted and they watered. Not a garden. The land they were going into was a land of hills and valleys and God watered it with his rain and his eyes were always upon it.
The life of faith is all hills and valleys—at least mine has been. Full of blessings, sure, but we’d often prefer the neat, manageable garden.
Praying for some relief for you. Asking God to give you green pastures in the valleys and refreshing breezes on the hilltops and his fellowship always.
What a fantastic life application to take from Deuteronomy! Oh, how I can relate. I do want that do-able, easy, manageable garden. I pretend like I want Jesus to lead me wherever he wants me to go, but I really just want the life of comfort that I’m used to. Even if it means I miss out on something better. 🙁 Ugh.
Thanks for the sharing what you’re learning with me. You always challenge and encourage. You ought to be writing devotionals, missy!
Thank you for sharing this! I have such a hard time coming away from my mom failures, which seem to multiply with the number of weeks I am into pregnancy. It’s a rollercoaster of failures and successes and I can’t seem to see the success through all the failure moments. My inner monologue gets so downhearted every time I’ve raised my voice, looked at my kids like they are strange alien beings who cannot tackle simple tasks without pushback, or just find myself being distant so I don’t say or do the opposite of my intentions with them. I worry I’m not remotely a light for them and can they really see or feel how much I love them lately? Thank you, again, for sharing this-I just saw it today, but today is exactly when I needed to see it.
Thanks for reading, Tara. I think all of us struggle with all of what you mentioned. It’s always so comforting to know that we’re not alone in these “mom failures.” It’s why we have grace though! And it’s good for our children to see us both giving and receiving that grace. They know we’re not perfect. We might as well just admit it, and let them see us walking in forgiveness and joy.
I think, anyway. 😉