dishwasher constantly going. laundry machines as well. and diapers never ending. supervising toddler playtime. building duplo tunnels and train tracks. grocery trips with two screaming toddlers and a pregnancy/mommy brain.
disciplining. and discipling (isn’t that a large part of being a parent?). comforting. teaching.
and just struggling to make it to the end of the day. thankful for nothing but the words “bedtime,” and my husband’s strong arms as he ushers the children up the stairs.
I’m not supposed to lift anything. or be on my feet, really. My OB calls it “borderline bedrest,” but that doesn’t do much for me. because all this still has to be done. the kids need food and rest and correction and play. and here I am- provider (re: servant).
and I feel as though I am faltering. floundering in waters too deep for comfort, just trying to stay afloat myself- while struggling to keep the rest of my family above the swift current of the daily stresses and demands of life.
and don’t I give these demands too much power over my life? have I not become servant to this worldly way of living in which I feel stress over wants and not needs? my brain is all muddle and I trudge through to find something fast to hold on to for dear life. and it’s there, but it seems all too simple for how complicated I have made this mess. but there it is: the embrace. Embrace of grace.
And do I not utter thanks?
Thanks for the little things, for the second chances, for the three weeks left of the third pregnancy, for the aches that force rest upon me, for the children who focus my attentions on them instead of the pile of clean clothes sitting in bedroom. because the clothes will still be there when the children go to bed. they don’t need to be folded. not now, not ever, really. Sure it’s nice to have clean and folded clothes and everything in its proper places. but these clothes, they are nowhere near eternal… they will wear and tear and never see a glimpse of heaven’s gates. but my kids? they’re here, they’re now, and they are an investment of time that will never go wasted.
and why can’t I realize that in the midst of toddler tantrums and nap-time refusals? in the screams of protests over the dinner vegetables?
should my ever present list-making-to-do-list of a brain not focus more around the eternal living rather than the worldly passing?