I’m sorry this is all so hard. What you’re going through seems improbable on the best days and impossible on the worst. It’s hard to keep your chin up when life keeps knocking you down over and over again.
Yes, you’re bruised. Your wounds haven’t healed yet. I see your pain, feel it rolling off of you.
Just when you think you might make it, another wave crashes over you, threatening to pull you under. You’re in over your head and relief seems as far away as the shore.
But friend, I want to tell you that even though you feel like you’re drowning right now, there are plans in the works. Plans to give you hope and a future. I can’t tell you how or when things will change. I just believe with all my heart that they will.
I believe in a good God that goes before us, stands behind us and walks beside us. You’re not sure if you believe, or you haven’t been in close contact with this God I’m talking about? That’s not a problem for him; you can’t do a thing to earn his scandalous grace.
You can have his peace in the midst of the chaos, the crazy, the pain or the grief. You can experience this peace no matter the circumstance. And it’s free.
All you have to do is accept it.
Hang in there friend, better days are ahead, and I’m praying for God to hold you in the very palm of his hand.
I’m enjoying a Saturday with coffee and nowhere to be. I’m loving the roaring fire and the fact that I’m still in my jammies. I am not even going to glance at my To Do list.
We get so busy hurrying and scurrying that we barely make a space in our lives to take a breath sometimes. That kind of pace can’t be sustained, at least not by the likes of me.
I hear my kids jumping around upstairs, I should probably check on the baby as I’ve lost my visual and he’s the kid who does this:
Now you see why I have trouble getting anywhere on time and why I buy only washable marker.
How cute is he even when he’s a mess???
Enjoying some breathing time today, how about you? How can you un-busy your world to enjoy what’s happening right this minute?
Have a blessed Saturday friends!
(Photo cred BuzzFeed)
Deadlines are usually mushy concepts to me. Mr. Wonderful says I get in this creative Time Warp thing and it’s rare that I emerge from it at the precise time I’m supposed to.
My second book is “supposedly” arriving at the publisher in about two weeks…probably….
Never in my life have I found so many other things that needed to be done as when I’m on a deadline: cleaning the ceiling fan, clearing out the lint trap for the dryer, organizing the office, filing.
I may need an intervention.
Today has been about as crazy as yesterday. But.
I’m finding joy despite the gum. In. Hair.
Look how sad the little nugget is😢
And the mountains of homework that second graders seem to have regarding quadrilaterals and polygons…pretty sure I didn’t know what those were until middle school. We find the silver linings where we can. The eight year old who struggles with so much brought home an amazing book report–we are celebrating the crap out of that!
(Photo cred Meredith Shafer 2016)
The twelve year old handled a situation that happened on the bus and he did it with wisdom well beyond his years. Apparently an older kid on the bus was making racist remarks about the twelve year old, who is originally from South Korea. I’m proud of him for trying to ignore it at first, addressing the kid on the bus, then addressing school officials when it wouldn’t stop. He handled it better than his mama would have; I’m afraid I err on the side of hot-headed mama bear when it comes to my kids.
We also had a minor accident even as I typed this blog post requiring copious amounts of paper towels to sop up the blood. After a lotttttttt of screaming and crying and hollering I was able to determine that though there was a lot of blood, this was not indeed an emergency. The eight year old had been swinging the four year old around and when she landed with a cross necklace in her mouth (whaaaa?!?) it cut her gums. No emergency here.
During the screaming and hollering I was fully preparing myself to go to the ER. That’s kind of our thing around here.
Thankfully, instead of going to the ER, I’m getting ready to put the baby to bed, soak in a hot bath, and binge-watch anything on Netflix.
Tomorrow’s another shot at getting it all right. Or at least better.
By 8:03 a.m. today I lost my mind and frankly, my will to do anything. Everyone at my house was off their game.
The twelve year old left everything everywhere as if the magic cleaning fairy would be arriving soon to clean up after him.
The eight year old woke up late, moved slow, worked my last nerve with talk back and outbursts. I also found out why I keep getting a bill from the school cafeteria: despite making and taking his lunch every day, he was getting a tray instead of eating his lunch. So I do indeed owe the school $16.47.
The Little Sister of the bunch spilled her milk, threw a fit, spilled more milk. I still hadn’t lost it yet though. I was still slogging through getting the oldest two out on the bus at two different times and then getting the two littles ready while the baby was spilling yet more milk and the dog was drinking out of the toilet and I had so much work to get done today and it was time to cautiously wake up Mr. Wonderful (cautiously because he has the PTSD, we have a process) when I realized:
This is my life. For realsies.
Confession: I’ve been a fraud. Faking it with optimism and gratitude til I make it but never really making it up that hill. Working three jobs to make ends meet. Raising four kids, sometimes by myself. Caregiving for Mr. Wonderful. Waiting for someone else to come and claim the life they lost because this can’t be mine.
A few short years ago I had a working husband who was able to help a lot with our busy household. I only had three kids and two jobs. There was no VA battle, no PTSD, no ADHD, no running around constantly like a crazy woman. I only had to run around like a crazy woman sometimes back then.
I’m so tired of pushing and straining and striving to try to make changes and have nothing budge. I’m exhausted from not seeing more progress to spur me on. I’m tired of being tired and worried and unable to sleep or find time for working out or finding joy in time spent with my kids instead of hauling them from point A to point B just hoping I get them there on time.
I’m sick of fighting the VA to get my soldier the care and benefits he deserves. I’m afraid I don’t have any fight left and the battle’s not done yet.
I’m weary today. And overwhelmed. And claustrophobic by the walls of responsibility closing in. I’m ready for the spring of my life and it feels like the winter winds have just begun.
The one thing I have going for me right now is that in my hardest moments of realness and raw honesty God meets me where I am. He comes to me with comfort, hope and peace, somehow knowing that this Monday, when I’m on the edge of losing my mind and my hope I need his steadying hand more than ever. He changes me from the inside out, even while He upholds me.
I find great comfort in knowing that the orchestrator of the chaos of the universe cares about each hair on my head, on each worry and heartbreak and tear and breath of little ol’ me.
I remind myself that things can’t be too bad if I am loved, both by God and by my tribe. That I have a life that some others would trade me for in an instant. That as hard as things are today, today is only temporary.
And the God of my today is the God of my yesterday and tomorrow. He will see me through. He has gone before me, walks beside me and is behind me.
I just have to get out of the way of myself, surrender to his scandalous grace, and remember it’s not over yet.
He’s not finished with me.
Grace has been on my mind a lot lately. My words for the year are scandalous grace, words that I’m just barely starting to grasp, much less put into practice.
I’m trying this at home with my children. They need scandalous grace from me to cover all the mistakes and missteps and bad decisions that already have been and that are to come.
I’m also working on scandalous grace towards my soulmate, my love, my Mr. Wonderful. The fault line between lover and caregiver is ever shifting, and I’m trying to rain down wifely-ness more often than caregiver-ness, because that’s what I was first. With a spouse I’m finding that scandalous grace matters almost as much in the little, everyday moments as it does in the big earth-shattering ones.
And to the world at large: I’m going to try my best to offer scandalous grace to you as well. To the friend who has cut me out of her life, to the woman who has cut me off and driven slowly in front of me, to those who have hurt me and those who will: the world says I should get even. Take revenge. Trash your car or at the very least, you’re good name.
But I no longer live by the world’s standards. I live by the scandalous grace of the One who has loved me more in this second than I could love my whole family for my whole life plus a thousand lifetimes.
Scandalous grace is so hard. It means forgiveness, even when they don’t want or ask for it. It means showing kindness when I’d really rather throw a temper tantrum and slash their tires. It means having a strength that the world deems weak, getting past the past, moving on and letting go.
Scandalous grace is also something I have to give myself: when I fail, when I don’t live up to mine or others’ expectations, when I make a bad call. Every day is a chance to practice scandalous grace on myself or someone else. Every day is the opportunity to try again, even if I missed the mark the day or hour or minute before.
Scandalous grace is very simple, but it is so hard.
He reminds me to choose joy in all situations. You wouldn’t know it from this pic but we’re on our third round of meds for an ear infection. This means he’s had ear troubles and pain for at least six weeks.
And he’s happy. He’s not defined by his circumstances and he certainly doesn’t let them get him down. He just chooses happy. All the time.
He reminds me that life is good. That there is always something to be joyful about. That even if you’re aren’t at 100% for whatever reason, you can still choose happiness.
He’s my little hug from heaven most days. He brings joy to all around him, even his daddy, who suffers from the darkness of PTSD. But Mr. Wonderful can’t stay in the dark too long when this sweetie swoops in with his light and belly laughs and silliness and games of hide-and-seek.
Sounds impossible, right? Finding joy no matter where you are, what circumstances life throws at you, or how things appear.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and since I tend to think out loud or in paper, I find myself writing about it too. I want to be so joyful if you were to wring me out there would just be puddles of excess joy drenching everyone around me.
So far, today has been an epic fail.
But despite how things look, how My emotions are tangled, what my morning looked like, I am going to continue to work towards choosing joy.
It’s only 8:29 as I’m typing this and already the chaos has threatened to engulf me. Nothing major, just lots of the same old.
I’m so tired of the same old!
We had some very important papers that we finally had signed, copied, filled out and had prepared to mail. What did I find torn all to bits this morning? The envelope they were sealed up in.
Basically the baby ate our homework.
The eight year old started out rough and Little Sister had a couple of meltdowns over socks and underwear (Really? Socks and underwear?! Whyyyyyyyyyyyy??). Big Brother was his usual steady self, thank goodness. And of course since Wednesday’s are the day the eight year old and I leave the house before the butt crack of dawn for occupational therapy, Mr. Wonderful was having a tough go of it. Which is hard on everyone–I just want to stay home and make sure he starts heading in the right direction but I can’t.
So I’m giving myself a break, because all I can do is all I can do. I’ve already given rest to God and he’s just going to have to deal with the crazy. And in going to count it all as joy.
Because I am deeply loved.
I have healthy kids.
I got a quick walk by myself in the freezing cold that shocked my senses and made me appreciate warm blankets and heaters.
I’m drinking Panera hazelnut coffee now to warm me up while the eight year old is in OT.