Wednesday, February 16, 2011


It is unconscionable that my last post was more than a month ago ... yet it is not as if I've been sitting around eating bon-bon's. The raw truth is that I've reached the point with three kids that nary a moment passes when I am not somehow, in some way, needed. Desperately.

As flattering as that may sound, it is exhausting.

Lately, the nights have not been off limits, as our entire family has been struggling with bronchialitis (read: cold that has spread to the lungs but is not yet as serious as bronchitis or pneumonia). So, any given night my dear husband and I may find ourselves calming, soothing or caring for one of our three children as they struggle to breathe, find themselves wide awake from a coughing fit or are just generally uncomfortable, unhappy and upset.

Add in our own colds and discomfort and you've got a pretty sorry household.

But, that is just the tip of the iceberg. In reality, the life of a stay-at-home mom with a 4-year-old, 2 1/2 year-old and 10-month-old is to be in the constant role of triage nurse - making split-second decisions as to which need is most immediate, who can be patched up and sent back into the field, and which child needs to be removed from duty until further notice.

All the while restoring the house to order from chaos, keeping up with dishes, laundry and cleaning (a list that sounds so "basic" yet seems to me as insurmountable as Mount Everest) and finding the time to "nourish one's soul" and "fill my cup" so that I might respond to the world with grace and love.

Um, yeah.

I long for a minute to bask in the serenity of God's word and contemplate his purpose and direction for my life ... all the while overwhelmed with the effort it takes to keep one 4-year-old calm and engaged enough so that I can even hear (much less absorb) a Sunday sermon.

And despite this ruckus, I hear God calling out to me.

I experience the awe and wonder of his love through my encounters with his beloved children.

And I feel him calling me ... his spirit burning in my chest ... a longing to speak his word, impart his blessing, welcome his children.

And I am terrified.

Nothing is farther from my daily reality.

Nothing would throw my entire life and that of my family into greater turmoil.

And yet it grows ... first a pebble, then a stone ... will I wait for the boulder to blindside me?