Doeth good. Doeth? What would life be without a little KJV? That word makes me laugh out loud. Really. And today I just need a good laugh. I NEED one.
Yesterday, I got off to such a great start making my thanksgiving list with the girls, but by the end of the day, Satan had won most of the battles. I crawled back in bed for the second time about 4 o'clock and had a good cry. As tears soaked my pillow, my sweet babes laughed and played in the living room, ignorant of their momma's break-down. Thankful for that. (#61 on my list)
It all started with a nap. I lay down with baby girl when it was time for her nap so she could play with my hair...and drifted off. This left my big girl to fend for herself for over an hour. When I finally woke up, the first thing big girl said to me was, "Mommy, when can we see Nana again? Can we see her tonight?"
Really? I haven't seen you all day. First, you were at preschool, then I napped (ugh), and now you want to leave me and go to Nana's?
Well, of course. She wanted to be with someone that would BE with her. Not sleep. This left me feeling like a failure of a mom. It couldn't possibly reason that she just simply wanted to see Nana because she hadn't seen her recently. No, it was definitely because I was a louse of a mom that slept through the afternoon--what should have been "our" time, big girl's and mine.
See the craziness that I fall for?
Then I looked around me. Laundry on the couch waiting to be folded. Laundry in the dryer. Dishes all over the kitchen. Papers to be sorted and filed and tossed. Floors to be swept and vacuumed. And then, it happened. Baby girl had an accident. Pee had filled her footed PJ's until running over and filling her leather church shoes that she was wearing for dress-up and, somehow overflowed her shoes, soiling the rug I had just washed and put in there only a few hours before. Pee also covered the potty and the step stool. I can not understand how one little gal can have so much pee in her!
I'm not proud to report what I did next. I dissolved into disability. I put baby girl in the tub, told her to take off her PJ's and walked out of the bathroom. I flopped back onto the couch and half-heartedly asked God for help. As I was asking my Father to help me, my baby was calling for her momma to come to her aid. I couldn't. I was defeated.
It was God that got me off that couch. Baby girl called the second time and I rose. And I washed. And I dressed. And I cleaned. And all the while big girl was asking when she could see Nana. And I crawled back in bed. And I cried.
Why can the smallest things crush us? Why can laundry, and dishes, and our baby's accidents strip us of all energy and determination? How can our good intentions to be thankful and merry dissolve in such a few short hours into weakness and despair?
I sent my man a text: the girls want to go to your moms. It was loaded with emotion that could not have possibly been relayed through our cold, hard phones. He did not mind, of course. I, on the other hand, felt rejected. I cried some more.
I laugh now at the irrationality of it all, but in the moment, our emotions can be powerful drivers. I read somewhere recently that emotions are indicators, not dictators. Are? Or should be? Because I'm quite certain mine dictate sometimes. I know they shouldn't, and I am the one giving them that power, but nonetheless...that statement should read: Emotions should be indicators, not dictators.
I pulled myself together, called Nana, who readily agreed to the girls' suggestion of staying ALL NIGHT, and we put away toys and packed a suitcase with necessities, like blankets (because Nana has none at her house), pillows (Nana must sleep on a bare mattress), a Christmas movie (because it is always a good time for Christmas movies), PJ's (at my suggestion), and their Bible story book and prayer book (a genuinely good idea, girlies).
After dropping some happy girls at Nana's, I turned the radio up loud and headed for the store. And I heard a woman saying something like this:
I used to wonder why my efforts to try harder weren't working. Then I realized He wanted me to turn to Him sooner.
Why can't I remember that throughout the day? It's not enough that I turn to Him in the morning. It's not enough that we sing praise songs and dance around the living room when we're happy. It's not enough that we read our devotionals, memorize Scripture, and pray before meals and bedtime. It's not enough. But He is enough. I just need to turn to Him sooner.
When I wake up and Satan tells me I'm a louse for sleeping away time with my big girl, turn to Him. ("Him" being God, of course.) When the house work is daunting, turn to Him. When baby girl says, "Mommy, I've peed," turn to Him. When I'm about to part with my girls and my sad heart wants to proclaim, "Rejected!" turn to Him.
And praise Him THEN. Not just when the sunshine falls on my face. Not just when we are singing and dancing. Not just when life is smoothly rolling by. But, "in all things, give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you." Because, it is ALL grace. And praise for the grace makes merry. And merry doeth good like a medicine.