I painted last night. Long strokes of too light color. A discouraging beauty- to see the need for a second coat before the first strokes have even begun to dry. Too late I drag my weary body to bed. Legs and feet and fingers and arms feel swollen and sluggish and don’t bend properly.
And yet there’s a feeling of satisfaction.
The morning comes and throughout it’s course I pause in the doorway and examine fresh color on walls. The need for a second coat is still apparent if I stare too long a time. But a glance? And it looks all lovely and peace.
a lightening of space through the newness of fresh paint
My body aches as the kids wake and it groans. But they grin. And they jump, and they beg. They clamor and they eat. And then they want to eat again. My body screams throughout my insides- and the aching surges deep.
putting swollen pregnancy feet up on couch for a two minute rest.
We go to Target. We come home. The kids eat lunch and I ignore my flesh and the desire to sit and let kids watch another show. But it’s hot outside and the moisture in the air could almost choke my swollen self. I grab plastic food bins and water. Brushes and paints. Put kids in suits for swimming.
the brain power to only give children two paints instead of all six.
my son telling me that the red and blue paint make purple- the very thing I was going to tell him.
Two healthy kids, covered in water, at play together in glorious sun.
There’s a battle here in my heart though. Through the midst of these joys and the re-joicing- there’s a struggle to stay in the joy and be all here in this perfect now. And to wholly give thanks for all grace gift. I haven’t done so today.
For in the midst of the joys and the midst of the crazy happy I have given way to the stresses of this world and chosen them over the thanking of the graces of this day. The desperation I feel and the choice I make for my own self instead of slowing down and taking the time to meet my children where they are. To bend knee and bend low and speak to them so that they hear and understand. To encourage them in obedience. To have a patience that exceeds my own.