Tonight I feel defeated–by three small golden-brown-headed people; by a slippery mental to-do list that never gets properly put down on paper; by at least eight loads of dirty laundry that glower at me every time I venture into the basement. I feel like my sweet, long-suffering, over-tired B did yesterday:
That is the quivering chin of a child who has had to give up the toddler swing to his baby sister. Imagine a plaintive, quavering voice increasing in volume: “I want the bwuuuue swing!!! I want the BWUUUUE swing!”
This was insult added to injury. A little earlier, I had heard the sudden sounds of true distress from the other room and darted away from the half-loaded dishwasher to find B a blubbery mess on the floor.
What happened? Did you fall down? What did you hurt?
“MY HEAD!!!!”
There was no apparent damage.
Are you okay?
“NOOOOOO! I’m NOT okay! I’m NOT!!!!!”
I patted his head comfortingly. Does that feel better?
“NOOOOOO! It DOESN’T feel better! NOOOOOOO!”
Do you want me to hold you?
“NOOOOOOOO! I don’t THINK SO you can HOLD me! NOOOOOO!”
Do you want me to kiss it?
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
I asked him again what hurt, and he gestured in the general direction of his whole head. I picked a spot and kissed it anyway.
Does that feel better?
“Yes.”
The end.
He’s a bit dramatic. I don’t know where he gets that. NO IDEA.
I really need to start getting him down for his nap earlier in the afternoon.
But tonight I felt like my tired three-year-old–weary and wobbly, and about to be crushed by the weight of having a crock pot still to clean. When it wiped smooth with one stroke, I felt a little foolish.
Sometimes mercy in marriage looks like this: my husband giving me a hug in the finally-clean kitchen at nine o’clock, even though I haven’t had a shower since my 4 pm run and I am crusty to say the least. I did go downstairs and face one load of laundry–only because he had folded the load that was in the dryer. More mercy. As I pulled small, wadded navy blue socks out of pant legs, I started murmuring snatches of a song I have loved for years:
No one would love me
if they knew all the things I hide …
And the hands I’ve seen raised to the sky
Not waving but drowning all this time
I’ll try to build an ark that they need
To float to you upon the crystal sea
Give me your hand to hold
‘Cause I can’t stand to love alone
And love alone is not enough to hold us up
We’ve got to touch your robe
So swing your robe down low
Swing your robe down low
The prince of despair’s been beaten
But the loser still fights …
And I’m surrounded by suffering and sickness
So I’m working tearing back the roof…
–Caedmon’s Call, “Love Alone”
It’s been another long day of working at tearing back the roof–for my children, for myself, for the burdens that bear down on my heart. And half the time I give up that work, scurry away, and try to cobble together a solution on my own, to make the lame walk and the blind see. Then I feel the creeping despair as I see it not working, again, and my plans smacking head-first into bumps and bruises and squabbles and spills and the ever-marching clock. I’m grateful for mercy–a hug in front of the kitchen sink–and hope, which settles most soundly when I remember that I don’t have to get it all right, and I won’t.
Swing your robe down low.
Today was a better day for B. I hope tomorrow will be better for both of us. If it isn’t, there will still be grace. I want to keep working at tearing back the roof, bringing it to Jesus.
And when he had entered the house, his disciples asked him privately, “Why could we not cast it out?” And he said to them, “This kind cannot be driven out by anything but prayer” (Mark 9:28-29).
Angie said:
This was especially precious for me to read today after many days like the one you just described. Thanks for sharing so beautifully.
And now I’m going to go listen to that Caedmon’s Call CD.
katie said:
(Sigh) You just gave words to my heart and I’m sure, to countless other mamas across the world. So grateful that He can do all things though we can do so very few!
K said:
Love that song. LOVE.
And I love to know that as a momma, I am not alone in my sometimes overwhelming moments. Thanks for sharing.
ps. I have to say I really enjoy connecting again. I am an avid blog reader, but actually having known you makes reading your thoughts even better! 🙂 I saw your blog roll as well and we read a ton of the same ones! Funny!
patty said:
Sarah,
you have totally captured the way i feel most nights by 8 p.m. 🙂 when it seems like the days are long and endless (especially w/a hubby in tax season)i can so easily lose sight of the One Who longs to carry me through those times. i try in my own strength to make things right, to make things easier, but my efforts fail. i’ve been “camping out” in Psalm 130 lately….such sweet reminders there of God’s sovereignty. sweet reminders that our trust (strength) is in the Word of the Lord. i will pray for you my friend, as i pray for myself to remember that He’s there for us tired mommies, every step of the way. love, patty
Nana said:
Absolutely inspirational! We all need to make a hole in the roof sometimes and throw ourselves down, headlong into His arms and listen to HIm sing HIs lullaby back to us. Thank you for reminding us that in the midst of all that is going on, it is His GRACE that blesses us, calms us down, and smooths out the wrinkles. Please give all three of those golden-brown-haired treasures a hug from me.
Sheila said:
Oh I can so relate to this post. Thank you for being so real. I have yet to have a day that goes as “planned” and sometimes I wonder why I even try to plan to get anything done. This week has been especially hard with unplanned dr visits thanks to a stick in the eye and celebrating a bday and then Kurt leaving for a trip. Somebody stole my patience yesterday and I really need it back to get through another day! Anyways thanks again for the assurance that this is the stage we’re in and let’s be real , it is hard, but oh so rewarding! Praying for you this morning that you will have a wonderful day!
andreajennine said:
I happen to be reading this on one of the *rare* days when I’m feeling efficient and productive, but it’s a good reminder that I need Jesus even when I am accomplishing things.
So glad you’re blogging, friend.