So sometimes… you feel like you’re just not cut out for the job.
Days when the blessings abound but your heart is too small to praise.
Times when it’s easier to gravitate towards what you don’t have rather than be grateful towards what you actually do have.
I need a baptism of seeing.
So when the kids had it worse this time, yeah, you name it; tinea, scabies, and eczema, along with some pretty bad tropical rash, I forgot my praise and stressed. I rused for control I knew I didn’t have…ruminated over what should have beens, what could have beens…
It’s no secret — it’s my mother tongue to complain, and whether it’s that the toddler isn’t eating enough, or the kids aren’t sleeping early enough, I forget,and I’d bark orders and butt heads, reducing all the holy moments of family living to a mere passing of time.
I need a way to break the flow of complaints, and to overcome the heart’s tendency to worry. All our anxiety can be redirected to praise, trust and thanks.
It’s sad but it’s true…the vapour of grace dissipates when we live on the brink of our own strength, when we gripe about and sweat over the small stuff of life.
We can’t afford to lose joy — joy is our strength as the mother of our home and the model of little hearts to follow.
So this baby of mine is two, and she’s finally fallen asleep.
It took some time but we are finally there. I hold her tight, pull her close, and land my kisses on her lips.
Nobody has ever told me that time could stop in such a moment of love. All my angst, my fussing and fretting — they dissipate with her blissful, rhythmic breaths.
I feel like an anchor has just been thrown for my saving. An anchor to save me from myself.
I run my fingers through the burgeoning thickness of her hair, feel my way around the blossom of her cheeks, tracing her ears, her eyes, her lips…and I feel this peace.
What is God trying to tell me?
This ryhtym of grace is joy. And I remember it clearly now:
“Joy is not necessarily the absence of suffering, but is the presence of God”.
Sam Sanders
His presence is peace and I can trust in someone far bigger than myself, a Saviour who is always ready for my rescue.
I let my fingers dance on the nape of her neck, count all these little blessings that made my life truly good, gingerly walking to her crib to put her down…