For Mothers Friday.... on Saturday

I find it fitting that I am posting this on a Saturday... such is life...

Guys, it had been a ROUGH morning.
By 7 AM, I had escaped to my hiding place… the garage… no less than ten times. I sat on the dirty floor, hugging my knees to my chest, still in my pajamas, blinking back tears and begging God for grace for my kids.

On the other side of the door, I could hear my 3-year-old screaming in the kitchen. He had asked for oatmeal and, once I had made it, had decided he had changed his mind, which resulted in sticky oatmeal all over his younger brother and the floor.

I had, through gritted teeth, thrown a towel at him and ordered him to, “Clean. Up. The. Oatmeal.” And strapped the younger son into his high chair with a banana for entertainment and stomped out to the garage. Because… I’m mature… and almost 29-years-old.

Somehow, the one –year-old escaped. I entered to the scene of the young boy triumphantly squatted on the table, dumping my freshly-made coffee over my opened Bible that I had yet to read.
So, you’re telling me I’m not getting caffeine OR Jesus this morning? Good luck, kiddos. Those were your lifelines.

It’s mornings like these that I wonder why the verse in Lamentations 3 doesn’t say God’s mercies are new every second as opposed to new every morning. We desperately needed a do-over. We needed to all climb back into our respective beds and start over. I needed some new mercies and, obviously, the tiny boys I had been entrusted with needed some new mercies, too.

I recently heard Gloria Furman say, in reference to that verse, that it’s always morning somewhere. So, I decided to take advantage of that and pretend we lived in California, since we only needed to rewind a couple of hours to start over. California morning. New mercies. Let’s go.

I wish I could say that day got easier but, in all honesty, it kind of went downhill from there. I did load up the kids and attempt the splash pad. When that backfired, we ran by Starbucks so I could get some iced coffee (this is the redemption story of the lost caffeine portion of my day). We came home and tried to have a nice lunch. Fail. Again. But by the time the kids were in their beds for naps and I was slurping on my watered-down coffee, I had some time to think about the story God is weaving through my life.

I think I’ve written before about my control issues. My need for things to go my way. This might be why I used to think I was Type A? Since my being blessed with two children, God has used them to throw up on my idol of control and comfort. Repeatedly. While screaming at me. And pooping on me.

I have been re-reading Paul Miller’s “A Praying Life” and he encourages us to consider what God might be teaching us in the moment as we go to him in prayer. So, that’s my challenge to myself… and to anyone who might be reading. It’s a rough day. There will be another. Are there idols in your heart that God, in his mercy, is trying to rid you of? Is he trying to draw you closer to him? Is he trying to teach you to be more dependent on him? Throw yourself at his feet and beg him to show you what he is teaching you. 

For me, recently, I have grown increasingly aware of my desire to complain and grumble, rather than operate out of a spirit of thankfulness. And, since I tend to learn in the hardest way imaginable, I have found God giving me a million opportunities to complain… to help me see the silver lining. I am by no means good at this and am still being sanctified second by second… but had I not had these difficult moments, perhaps I would have gone on as the grumbler… growing more and more calloused and ungrateful. Less like Jesus. Less reliant on God.

Be encouraged, sweet mamas (and those of you who aren’t mothers), his mercies truly ARE new every morning. And, it’s always morning somewhere.


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