Thursday, May 3, 2012

Broken Hearted



Today I am broken.  I pretty much stunk it up as a mom.  I was grouchy, snappy, gruff and unlovely.  I wanted nothing more than for my kids to just go to sleep for lots of hours.  I don't like admitting it, but sometimes I just have to be honest.

Honest.

Because if I am not, someone might get hurt.  My kids might think I am disappointed in them.  But I am not.  I am overwhelmed.  My whole person is cluttered and scattered.  I am trying to hold my heart together with glue made of tears.  I am tired, self-absorbed, and prone to blather on about my heavy load.

Honest.

But that isn't all of it.  I am also finding that my ears, eyes and hands are always full.  Audiobooks, texting, blogs, house-hunting, even Bible reading make sure that I am never left alone, quiet.  I love all that stuff.  But I am NEVER quiet.

Honest.

Because if I am quiet, I have to face to questions I have been assigned.

How to love these children?  Who are the least of these?  What can I do to share the love of Christ?  How can I follow a Jesus who commanded us to love God and neighbor and still called a woman a dog?  Every time I get my mind around this guy, I lose my focus and my schema falls apart again.  I want Jesus to be one guy all the time.  A feed the hungry, love the lonely, clothe the naked (although this last one is quite a challenge at my house) fella who never tells confusing stories or tells someone they don't have a place at the table.

Honest.

I hate that story.  But it gives me hope.  Maybe the writer of the story was simply illustrating something that made more sense to the writer's audience.  Maybe Jesus never really meant that.  I don't know, but the woman looked persisted and was healed.  Sometimes I feel gruff and I fear that I am no longer reflecting the love of the Father, but, heck, even Jesus Christ lost it in the face of constant whining.  But, he was humble and honest and I can see him close his eyes, take a deep breath, and murmur, "start over" to himself, and he healed that whiny, fussy, unlovely woman.

Honest.

Tomorrow I will start again.  Tomorrow I have another chance to love these little miracles.  Tomorrow I have another chance to work in a quiet moment.  Maybe two.

BTW...I only have one basket of clothes to put away.

And it is mostly socks.

And who need socks in the spring?

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