Sometimes God has to bash me in the head a few (hundred) times to get His point across, for the lesson to ring true. Usually. Sometimes, when He knows I need it and can’t handle anything else, there is this whisper that I recognize.
Tonight I was weary. Not just the normal exhaustion, but bone-weary. I haven’t eaten in a few days because of what I thought was food poisoning. This afternoon, my toddler confirmed it was a virus by throwing up all over everything. EVERYTHING. As soon as the first of five loads of laundry was in the washer and she was snuggled up against me, she threw up again. She started saying “Uh oh!” and reaching for a towel that we’d put on the bed for clean-ups. I tried to take it from her, but she shook her head no and her sweet sick self, covered in ickiness, proceeded to wipe puke off her mommy’s arm. And I cried. Because I was tired, because I lose sight of the need for selflessness like that in relating to others, because in her moment of need, she only saw mine, which was so much less.
My teenagers didn’t do a lot today. At all. But they were kind to their mother. They spoke with gentleness in their voices that is sometimes lacking. They gave me hugs. They asked if I needed anything. They did a couple of chores and did them better without whining. They gave this mama what I long for. Not a perfect house or a perfect life void of challenges and trouble, but one filled with tenderness that reflects the value of those we love.
My husband, who I swore off store duty when we got another car, went to the store accompanied by one of my boys. After doing all the laundry because he knew I was lightheaded and not recovered from my own 24 hours of puking and three days without eating. While I sat with our tiny daughter and watched Sweet Pea Beauty (Veggie Tales put some great lessons in this one, but that’s another story) he replaced towels and handed me new outfits every time she threw up. He rubbed my back, still sore from lots of throwing up. And he did it all without a single complaint, reminding me that he’s glad we’re in this life together, even when days like this are our life.
My sweet girl asked to go to sleep early, her tousled head on my shoulder. I held on longer than usual because I still can and she needs it. She woke up after an hour or so and I walked around with her until she fell back to sleep. We prayed for her and I settled her into her bed, tucked the covers around her, and she woke up. And I let out an exasperated sigh. Loudly. Very loudly. Because I have had a hard few days and she needs sleep and I whimpered in my heart, “I can’t do this anymore.” And the words began immediately in my mind. The words the kids I’ve been helping prepare to lead worship time at church have been swaying out of sync to for the past two weeks. The words I barely heard when they sang last night because I was feeling so terrible.
So pull me a little closer
Take me a little deeper
I wanna know Your heart
And God was near. The day came back to me in snapshots. The moments. The ones that God had showed me He was right there. In the ways He had reminded me not to give up. In the ways He had revealed, again, why I want and need to be a mother. In the ways He continues to help me relearn love through the actions of my husband. In the ways He showed me that right here, in the middle of teenage challenges and toddler tantrums, in the midst of puke all over my world…
He will pull me closer. He will take me deeper. He will show me His heart. Sometimes like Rapunzel in Tangled with her cast iron pan and sometimes, when I am where I was tonight and can’t even find words to pray, in lyrics like a breeze that gently blows over my mind. I am so abundantly grateful.
Wildheart Wanderings 