It’s morning. Another night has sung its song. Soft and low, almost inaudible at times. Loud and too long, at others, as my churning heart cannot still, cannot submit to the hush, cannot embrace rest.
I wake, still tired. Fluff my pillow and sit up. I’ll take just a few minutes and pray. Reset my mind before the day even starts. And I can almost see from my bed, that kitchen sink. The kitchen sink who I’m convinced has a growing hatred for me, and who refuses with brute tenacity to allow me to wash all its contents in one day. It is the victor, and I, the washer, shall not win.
Probably not tomorrow either.
Think, pray, I remind myself. You only have a few minutes before the baby wakes. But it’s too late. He’s awake.
Smiling, he sees me, and dances in his crib for me to pick him up.
I somehow sigh and smile at the same time.
The day is on. Feet on the ground. Prayer time missed before go-time.
Going to need. God’s. Grace.
Stumble to the kitchen. Milk for baby. Levi comes down the stairs. Hello sweet boy.
Coffee sounds good. Not enough room in the sink to dump yesterday’s grounds and rinse the coffee pot, I do it anyway. Vanilla creamer and too much of it.
There won’t be a “real” hot breakfast today. So thankful for the frozen waffles in the freezer and for honey. No one will care.
Drew and Dax wake up happy. One more day til he turns seven, Dax says. I hover the mouse over the date today. Yep. Seven years tomorrow. Where has the time gone? How does it slip away like it does?
More to do today than I thought.
There’s a big ruckus coming now from the other room. The baby has pooped and the diaper is NOT on him.
Where are the wipes? God help me.
Now Landen’s clean, but the carpet is in wretched shape.
It’s loud already. The ball bouncing. Someone has taken Landen’s toy, there’s a DS blaring a song that I don’t even like, and Dax wails that Landen. still. stinks!
A hide and go seek game now under my feet. I can’t hear the soft, classical music coming from my computer. Just the fight that the game has now erupted into. My chair is kicked, and oh yay! Now I get to start sneezing.
Dax and Drew, quit fighting in the kitchen!
I don’t mind assigning extra chores. They’re not quite tall enough for dishes. I could give them the stepstool.
Sneeze again. Sip coffee. I can hear the music again.
It’s time to dress everyone.
Going to need. God’s. Grace.
Dax, will you open the blinds for me, please? Please?
Levi is crying now. I can’t remember what I’m making for dinner tonight. Another sip of coffee.
Going back to bed is not an option. For Levi OR me.
You will NOT hurt him! I yell.
Deep breath. I guess I’ll open the blinds myself.
And the light floods the room, spilling over the kitchen table, revealing remnants of last night’s dinner on the tile floor. And somehow it’s okay.
I probably won’t get to all the things piled high in my mind to do today. Floor, sheets, bathrooms, laundry.
And those dishes.
But blue sky beckons. Books will be read. We’ll cut a potato and plant it today for Dylan’s science experiment. We’ll study a globe in discussing Hayden’s history and geography. We’ll pick up a 14 year old boy on crutches from his science class and giggle again, remembering how he got into the wrong big, white van last week. I’ll make a dinner – oh! – cajun chicken pasta, that’s right! – and stack more dishes. In spite of knowing I need to wash them, I’ll be too tired from doing the important things, and I’ll choose to sit on the couch and finish crocheting our eighth son’s baby blanket.
Because before too long, he’ll be here.
And I will really REALLY need God’s grace then.
I can hear it. Faintly. Ever-so-softly. Just audible enough to elevate my heart. To be able to know that this work is in accompaniment to that music. His work. I can do this job of raising eight boys.
This dirty. Loud. Tiring job.
I can somehow see through the melodies and into the future, the bigger picture. It won’t be my own strength or will.
But boys into men, yes…..by His grace.
To read other posts in this series, click here.
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:9
How has God demonstrated His grace in your life and journey as a mother?