Last night leaving the mess seemed like such an act of self grace, this morning it seems like terrible idea. Morning me is curing sleepy bedtime me, and not just under her breath.
The breakfast prep isn’t delightful or serene, because the kids hang on my legs begging for ingredients, dragging chairs up to the counter to “help” me. This is something that was sweet, at first, but today adds an additional stressor to an already hectic morning.
Kel comes out of the bathroom in his dress slacks and rushes out the door to preach at a supporting church and I look at the kids with a mix of love and discouragement.
They’re screaming on the outside and I am shrieking on the inside. It’s only 7:15 and already I am sobbing for some peace.
I find myself wondering, Dear God where is the sabbath rest for the mamas? What’s your plan here? How can you call us to lay it all down and rest when truly we’re out of clean forks and underwear?
What do you desire from the ones whose floors are still sticky from yesterday’s watermelon fiasco? The ones who are still not fully over the fact that their daughter peed all over the floor in WalMart? The ones who shouldn’t do laundry on Sundays but don’t know how they can avoid it?
I believe in your rhythm, your rest, your call to work six and rest one.
I want to delve in your word all quiet and relaxed on the back patio, sipping coffee and bathing in your love, manifest so clearly in your creation.
But when I sit outside, the demands to come play and pretend intensify, as if they hate to see me resting. What do I do when devos are interrupted by the cozy coupe falling over, again?
Can you refresh those who approach with love and good intentions?
The ones who have both stepped and sat in their son’s poop this week?
What’s your plan here? Am I doing it wrong? Will you show me what to lay down? How to drink your water deeply, to make peace with the giving of myself yet another day?
Remind me over and over again that this is a season, will you highlight the beautiful parts?
Perhaps you could get them to both nap at the same time and keep all the poo and pee in the proper places?
Is there a Patron Saint of Preschool Mothers? If not, can you get the pope on that?
Dear Lord, can you teach me what your plan for sabbath rest is for the mamas?
I know that many days I look more like Martha than Mary but, no one is knocking down our door to do the laundry.
Lord thank you for being a God of grace, who loves children who approach with exhausted hearts, full of questions.
Friends, please share your secrets of grace in the mess, resting in chaos, sabbath for the mamas.