Y'all, I am frustrated. And the source of my frustration is my kids. I hate to even admit that, BUT I AM.
At 6:22am today, I sat down again to finally try and finish the 'Happy Halloween' post I'd started writing almost three.weeks.ago. :45 seconds later, Nathan woke up screaming.
(I still haven't finished that post. True story.)
::UPDATE- It has taken me overseven, nine, TEN DAYS to writing this. Because- Motherhood happens, y'all.::
It was literally minutes, no- moments after I'd just settled down with my warm blanket and freshly poured coffee that it happened. I'd barely settled in my comfy chair with my laptop; I'd just exhaled as I prepared to begin to write when I heard the first stream of his cries coming from the nursery down the hall. And, as selfish and hard-hearted as it makes me sound- for the first few moments when I heard him- my raw reaction was that it frustrated me.
I went down to his room, changed his diaper, got his blankets arranged and found his favorite doggie pacifier. I got him snuggled back into his bed, tucked him in again, and by the time I closed his door like a Mom ninja, he was back asleep like the precious angel cherub baby he is. (Because he really is- that kid is adorable.)
Looking back on it now, it seems petty and selfish to have gotten so frustrated with such an innocent interruption- the logical part of my brain knows and understands this. But, in the emotional "Borderline Burned Out Mom" part of my brain I can admit that it frustrated me because for me, in the life phase that I am in right now, one of the biggest drawbacks I deal with is the constant, never ending, unceasing feeling of interruption and incompletion because sometimes, I JUST WANNA FINISH SOMETHING.
And if you've ever stuck around for any length of time in a house with three kids preschool aged and under, you understand that completing things (much less actually finishing them without interruptions) never happens. A typical day for me is a 13 (sometimes 16+) hour merry-go-round of interruptions. I start and stop so many tasks and chores and projects and errands that my mind feels like I'm an internet browser with 438 open tabs.
**********
For example: A MORNING IN MY HOUSE
My two bigs usually wake up before the baby, so as I'm getting them out of their jammies and into their day clothes, I gather a load of laundry to run. However, just as I'm scooping up clothes and socks and random dirty pajama tops to wash, I'm interrupted by the baby's cries from the nursery.
I leave the laundry pile on the floor in their room and leave the bigs to finish getting (mostly) dressed by themselves to go wake up and tend to the fussy baby. As I'm changing his diaper, my two bigs are finished getting dressed with their backwards undies and mismatched tops and socks that are pulled way too high. They've now made it into the nursery for me to help my middle child fish her arms out of the correct holes in her shirt (we are still working with her on dressing herself- she's 2.5) and are now begging for drinks.
I herd the four of us into the kitchen (while I stop at the deck door to let the dog out) to fix my soon-to-be-dehydrated bunch of children fresh cups of 2% chocolate milk (Luke), grape juice (Josie) and Vitamin D milk (Nathan). I start some water boiling for oatmeal and as I'm handing them their cups, I peek around the open door of the dishwasher that's waiting to be unloaded and spy a lone dishrag I forgot to gather last night after I wiped off the supper table. That reminds me of the laundry I started gathering before the baby woke up.
I dash back into their bedrooms to gather their clothes and make a pass through their bathroom to gather the 291 handtowels and big towels and cold, wet washrags that have been sitting in the bottom of their tub, unrung out from their baths last night. (Ewwww.)
It's while I'm in there that I hear the two big kids squabbling over the recently anointed, recently elected, prime drinking cup in our house: a 3 year old, faded blue plastic souvenier cup from the Aquarium of the Americas in NOLA. I'm not kidding. There have been tears and squabbles and wars and rumors of wars and blood hasnearly been shed over who's turn it is to drink out of the blessed "Fish Cup".
If I were a sane person, I would simply hide it in the back of the cabinet or try and find a duplicate, or give it away BUT I AM NOT THAT PERSON because, for some perverse reason, I feel the need to teach them an object lesson in loving and giving and turn taking EVERY SINGLE DAY- I set my sights back to the kitchen.
As soon as I dump the mound of laundry to be sorted on the floor in the corner of my kitchen, and let the poor dog back inside, I take a moment (for what seems the millionth time) to drag both kids into my lap and go over the high points of sharing and generosity and loving others more than we love ourselves BECAUSE JESUS WOULD WANT TO SHARE THAT RIDICULOUS FISH CUP AND I WANT MY KIDS TO WANT TO SHARE IT TOO.
We eventually eat our breakfast. As soon as our oatmeal bowls are stashed into the sink, we start our school work and the varied and numerous array of interruptions continue on throughout our day as I try to keep up with our laundry and our housework and our meals and our hearts and our minds and our souls. I need a nap and it's not even 10am.
**********
Being home with my three kids is a daunting task, and there are some days, like that day when I just want to be able to do something start-to-finish without stopping. Mornings like those leave me with the feeling that I'd be content to just get my dishwasher unloaded without having to stop 17 times in the process.
Before I had kids, I could unload an entire dishwasher (that I'd only had to run every other day, ha!) in less than 4 minutes. Now that I've got a 3:1 child-to-Mom ratio, if I can get it unloaded by lunchtime I'm feeling pretty stinkin' good about myself.
And I'm not saying that there aren't ways I've found to better equipped myself to help make my days run more smoothly. I've made and actually follow several routines for both beginning and ending my days. Because it's so much easier to have the kid's morning cups fixed up the night before. Not having three kids hanging on your legs in the morning begging for hydration is actually quite nice. I try and follow these routines EVERY SINGLE DAY because, when I do- I really can see a positive difference.
I have a DayRunner that I love and adore. That bad boy stays open on top of a short bookshelf in my living room. I walk past it 372 times everyday and I would be positively lost without it because it's become my lesson planner and my calendar and my menu and my shopping list and my cleaning rotation and my routine and my brain. I would literally be lost without my trusty DayRunner. We've become organizational BFF's. Hooray for paper pages!!
But, even with all of those plans and to do lists and daily cleaning zones and routines and schedules, I can still get discouraged. There are still days that I am tired and cranky and fussy and frazzled and short with the kids and my husband. There are still moments when I long to be locked, undisturbed in a room with a blanket and a book and a cup of coffee for a couple of hours. Better yet- throw in a strong wireless signal and my Netflix cue and that may just about push me over the edge into an endless pool of bliss. For a burned out Mom like me, that situation happening would be like the equivalent of an entire lifetime of using towels straight from the dryer.
And I've had to realize something about my frazzled and frayed and burned out self. I can have all the paper pages of lists and tasks and reminders and post it notes and alarms and still feel ill-equipped to face my days and unprepared to accomplish all my responsibilities if I have not RESTED AND RECONNECTED with my Savior.
I recently read my way through The Gospels. What I mean is, during my morning Bible studies, my plan took me straight through Matthew, Mark, Luke and John's accounts of the events in Jesus' life and ministry. And y'all, when I say it was a game changer, I am not exaggerating because after I wrapped up John I WAS CHANGED. My view of Jesus had forever been altered and I am a better person now because of it.
I've always loved Jesus. I've always admired Him. Respected Him. Worshiped Him. But y'all, after reading through all the ins and outs and happenings of his life and ministry, I AM even more IN AWE OF HIM on levels that I never even thought about. He was a multitasker. A go-getter. An early riser. A night owl. A shepherd. A physician. A therapist. A life coach. A guide. As I read through the endless and tireless lists of places and people and situations He encountered- I couldn't (and I still don't) understand how Jesus could have physically and mentally and emotionally survived a life like his.
For the life of me, I can't get over how unbelievably tired He must have been during his ministry. I mean, serioulsy, y'all- HE WORKED NONSTOP. Teaching. Preaching. Healing the sick. Kissing the babies. Hugging the people. Teaching The Word. I can not imagine what the pressure He endured felt like.This never ending stress, the constant pressure of the needs and demands of other people both physically and spiritually is something that, up until recently, I'd never thought about. How mentally and physically and emotionally exhausting that must have been for Him because everywhere He went- every town he visited, every shore his boat arrived on, every city he preached in- there were people waiting for Him. Because they needed Him. Wanted him. Sought after him. To heal their sick, bless their children, teach their people. I only have three little people's needs to meet every day, and even so- there are days I don't know quite how to handle it well, but Jesus did it for entire towns and cities and hillsides and regions and THE ENTIRE WORLD. Learning how to deal with stress like Jesus did is a lesson I needed to learn.
There is one particular story that really struck me about how Jesus handled stress in His life. (Matthew Matt.4:23-25, Mark 1:21-39 **my favorite account**, and Luke 4:31-44) Jesus had just begun his ministry, and Luke's account tells us that Jesus had just been in Nazareth- his hometown- where his message was so ill received, that the people in the synagogue were in a rage against him. They were so mad they wanted to throw him off a cliff!
Jesus left Nazareth and travelled to Capernaum, where he began teaching them in the synagogue on the Sabbath. Jesus was still a relative unknown, and while he was teaching, a man with an unclean spirit came up to him, declaring him "the Holy One of God". Jesus immediately rebuked him and the demon left. The news of this miracle got out, and pretty soon it was spreading like wildfire all over town.
He left the synagogue and went to Peter's house where Peter's mother-in-law was sick with a debilitating fever. They immediately asked Jesus to see to her, and he healed her. While all this was happening, the people of the city and surrounding villages heard the miraculous news about the synagogue and started bringing him people to heal. Mark's account tells us that "the whole city was at their door". I can't imagine the crush of people that surrounded Peter's house, but Jesus saw to them and healed them. What a job that must have been.
It's the end of this story that really struck me, because the VERY NEXT THING that Jesus did, after teaching and healing and preaching and caring for an entire city's worth of sick and afflicted people was to escape. "In the early morning, while it was still dark, Jesus go up, left the house, and went away to a secluded place, and was praying there. Simon (Peter) and his companions searched for Him; they found Him and said to Him, "Everyone is looking for You." (Mark 1:35-37) And y'all, I bet they were.
Jesus had just spent nearly an entire night healing the sick and casting out demons, and the thing he needed most, the first thing he did to cope, the first steps he took to decompress was to rest and reconnect with His Father. He recognized where His strength came from, and He realized that He needed to lean on that Relationship to keep Him strong enough to survive the life and events and stresses of His ministry.
I, on the other hand, have not always seen my need to rest and reconnect as being that important. When I'm stressed with the kids and need an outlet to decompress, I've been known to jump onto social media or browse delicious recipes on Pinterest or text my husband ridiculous ecards or just about anything besides what I really need to be doing to empower myself to survive this crazy life I lead: JESUS.
Instead of logging on to Facebook or Instagram to decompress during stressful afternoons, I feel so much better when I escape into my quiet, dark bedroom, and seek Jesus' solace. The kids can knock on the door and bang on the walls for my attention just as well if I'm in there for five minutes as much as they could if I had my nose glued to my iPhone while I hid on the opposite side of a locked bathroom door. Reconnecting to Jesus is peaceful. Reconnecting to my wireless signal is playtime. And, if I'm feeling particularly stressed and void with my Instagramless moment, I can always throw a hashtag into my prayers with air quotes because Jesus will understand those, too.
Before I became a Mom, when I'd read the story of Jesus calming the storm (found in Matt. 8, Mark 4, Luke 8) I'd always be surprised that Jesus could actually sleep through such a terrific thunderstorm such a tiny boat. Now that I'm a Mom I can totally get it BECAUSE HE MUST HAVE BEEN WORN SLAP OUT. His abilibiy to sleep through that storm, to me, is a testament to just how drained He felt. Stress exhaustion makes much, much more sense to me now that I've experienced my own versions of pressure and sleep depravation and . Because there are days when I think I could take a nap in the hull of a boat during a storm, too.
On this side of the never ending, never quitting, never-gonna-clock-out-for-the-day stream of the stress of Motherhood and all the interruptions that come along with them: I GET IT NOW. Jesus needed to reconnect and I do, too. His life, His ministry, His mission was one of constant interruptions. There was even one time when he was in the middle of preforming one miracle, was interrupted- preformed a second- then went back and completed the first miracle that he'd started. (Matt. 9, Mark 5, Luke 8) And I thought my struggle to complete a full circut of laundry from hamper to closet was tough. Mercy, y'all! Jesus was the Master multitasker.
And that's my takeaway. I used to live an uninterrupted life. I used to be able to start and finish tasks. BUT THEN I HAD KIDS. And now, my life is different. The value of my life is no longer based on starting and finishing tasks. It's surrounded by three precious little interruptiosn and the duties I've been given to raise them. I can take steps and measures to ensure that my waking hours are as productive and fruitful as possible, but I have to let go of the comparision of what my life used to be like to what it is now. Because there is no way I would ever want to go back to my 100%-completed-to-do-list, perfectly-folded-towel-and-washrag, spoiled-milk-sippy-cupless life. Because my kids are blessed messes. I may be tired, and my days may be long, and I may not get to wash my hair everyday, but it's the best kind of exhausted I could ever think to be.
Jesus knew the value of taking time to himself to rest and reconnect when He was stressed. And it's time I took that lesson to heart, too.
At 6:22am today, I sat down again to finally try and finish the 'Happy Halloween' post I'd started writing almost three.weeks.ago. :45 seconds later, Nathan woke up screaming.
(I still haven't finished that post. True story.)
::UPDATE- It has taken me over
It was literally minutes, no- moments after I'd just settled down with my warm blanket and freshly poured coffee that it happened. I'd barely settled in my comfy chair with my laptop; I'd just exhaled as I prepared to begin to write when I heard the first stream of his cries coming from the nursery down the hall. And, as selfish and hard-hearted as it makes me sound- for the first few moments when I heard him- my raw reaction was that it frustrated me.
I went down to his room, changed his diaper, got his blankets arranged and found his favorite doggie pacifier. I got him snuggled back into his bed, tucked him in again, and by the time I closed his door like a Mom ninja, he was back asleep like the precious angel cherub baby he is. (Because he really is- that kid is adorable.)
Looking back on it now, it seems petty and selfish to have gotten so frustrated with such an innocent interruption- the logical part of my brain knows and understands this. But, in the emotional "Borderline Burned Out Mom" part of my brain I can admit that it frustrated me because for me, in the life phase that I am in right now, one of the biggest drawbacks I deal with is the constant, never ending, unceasing feeling of interruption and incompletion because sometimes, I JUST WANNA FINISH SOMETHING.
And if you've ever stuck around for any length of time in a house with three kids preschool aged and under, you understand that completing things (much less actually finishing them without interruptions) never happens. A typical day for me is a 13 (sometimes 16+) hour merry-go-round of interruptions. I start and stop so many tasks and chores and projects and errands that my mind feels like I'm an internet browser with 438 open tabs.
**********
For example: A MORNING IN MY HOUSE
My two bigs usually wake up before the baby, so as I'm getting them out of their jammies and into their day clothes, I gather a load of laundry to run. However, just as I'm scooping up clothes and socks and random dirty pajama tops to wash, I'm interrupted by the baby's cries from the nursery.
I leave the laundry pile on the floor in their room and leave the bigs to finish getting (mostly) dressed by themselves to go wake up and tend to the fussy baby. As I'm changing his diaper, my two bigs are finished getting dressed with their backwards undies and mismatched tops and socks that are pulled way too high. They've now made it into the nursery for me to help my middle child fish her arms out of the correct holes in her shirt (we are still working with her on dressing herself- she's 2.5) and are now begging for drinks.
I herd the four of us into the kitchen (while I stop at the deck door to let the dog out) to fix my soon-to-be-dehydrated bunch of children fresh cups of 2% chocolate milk (Luke), grape juice (Josie) and Vitamin D milk (Nathan). I start some water boiling for oatmeal and as I'm handing them their cups, I peek around the open door of the dishwasher that's waiting to be unloaded and spy a lone dishrag I forgot to gather last night after I wiped off the supper table. That reminds me of the laundry I started gathering before the baby woke up.
I dash back into their bedrooms to gather their clothes and make a pass through their bathroom to gather the 291 handtowels and big towels and cold, wet washrags that have been sitting in the bottom of their tub, unrung out from their baths last night. (Ewwww.)
It's while I'm in there that I hear the two big kids squabbling over the recently anointed, recently elected, prime drinking cup in our house: a 3 year old, faded blue plastic souvenier cup from the Aquarium of the Americas in NOLA. I'm not kidding. There have been tears and squabbles and wars and rumors of wars and blood has
If I were a sane person, I would simply hide it in the back of the cabinet or try and find a duplicate, or give it away BUT I AM NOT THAT PERSON because, for some perverse reason, I feel the need to teach them an object lesson in loving and giving and turn taking EVERY SINGLE DAY- I set my sights back to the kitchen.
As soon as I dump the mound of laundry to be sorted on the floor in the corner of my kitchen, and let the poor dog back inside, I take a moment (for what seems the millionth time) to drag both kids into my lap and go over the high points of sharing and generosity and loving others more than we love ourselves BECAUSE JESUS WOULD WANT TO SHARE THAT RIDICULOUS FISH CUP AND I WANT MY KIDS TO WANT TO SHARE IT TOO.
We eventually eat our breakfast. As soon as our oatmeal bowls are stashed into the sink, we start our school work and the varied and numerous array of interruptions continue on throughout our day as I try to keep up with our laundry and our housework and our meals and our hearts and our minds and our souls. I need a nap and it's not even 10am.
**********
Being home with my three kids is a daunting task, and there are some days, like that day when I just want to be able to do something start-to-finish without stopping. Mornings like those leave me with the feeling that I'd be content to just get my dishwasher unloaded without having to stop 17 times in the process.
Before I had kids, I could unload an entire dishwasher (that I'd only had to run every other day, ha!) in less than 4 minutes. Now that I've got a 3:1 child-to-Mom ratio, if I can get it unloaded by lunchtime I'm feeling pretty stinkin' good about myself.
And I'm not saying that there aren't ways I've found to better equipped myself to help make my days run more smoothly. I've made and actually follow several routines for both beginning and ending my days. Because it's so much easier to have the kid's morning cups fixed up the night before. Not having three kids hanging on your legs in the morning begging for hydration is actually quite nice. I try and follow these routines EVERY SINGLE DAY because, when I do- I really can see a positive difference.
I have a DayRunner that I love and adore. That bad boy stays open on top of a short bookshelf in my living room. I walk past it 372 times everyday and I would be positively lost without it because it's become my lesson planner and my calendar and my menu and my shopping list and my cleaning rotation and my routine and my brain. I would literally be lost without my trusty DayRunner. We've become organizational BFF's. Hooray for paper pages!!
But, even with all of those plans and to do lists and daily cleaning zones and routines and schedules, I can still get discouraged. There are still days that I am tired and cranky and fussy and frazzled and short with the kids and my husband. There are still moments when I long to be locked, undisturbed in a room with a blanket and a book and a cup of coffee for a couple of hours. Better yet- throw in a strong wireless signal and my Netflix cue and that may just about push me over the edge into an endless pool of bliss. For a burned out Mom like me, that situation happening would be like the equivalent of an entire lifetime of using towels straight from the dryer.
And I've had to realize something about my frazzled and frayed and burned out self. I can have all the paper pages of lists and tasks and reminders and post it notes and alarms and still feel ill-equipped to face my days and unprepared to accomplish all my responsibilities if I have not RESTED AND RECONNECTED with my Savior.
I recently read my way through The Gospels. What I mean is, during my morning Bible studies, my plan took me straight through Matthew, Mark, Luke and John's accounts of the events in Jesus' life and ministry. And y'all, when I say it was a game changer, I am not exaggerating because after I wrapped up John I WAS CHANGED. My view of Jesus had forever been altered and I am a better person now because of it.
I've always loved Jesus. I've always admired Him. Respected Him. Worshiped Him. But y'all, after reading through all the ins and outs and happenings of his life and ministry, I AM even more IN AWE OF HIM on levels that I never even thought about. He was a multitasker. A go-getter. An early riser. A night owl. A shepherd. A physician. A therapist. A life coach. A guide. As I read through the endless and tireless lists of places and people and situations He encountered- I couldn't (and I still don't) understand how Jesus could have physically and mentally and emotionally survived a life like his.
For the life of me, I can't get over how unbelievably tired He must have been during his ministry. I mean, serioulsy, y'all- HE WORKED NONSTOP. Teaching. Preaching. Healing the sick. Kissing the babies. Hugging the people. Teaching The Word. I can not imagine what the pressure He endured felt like.This never ending stress, the constant pressure of the needs and demands of other people both physically and spiritually is something that, up until recently, I'd never thought about. How mentally and physically and emotionally exhausting that must have been for Him because everywhere He went- every town he visited, every shore his boat arrived on, every city he preached in- there were people waiting for Him. Because they needed Him. Wanted him. Sought after him. To heal their sick, bless their children, teach their people. I only have three little people's needs to meet every day, and even so- there are days I don't know quite how to handle it well, but Jesus did it for entire towns and cities and hillsides and regions and THE ENTIRE WORLD. Learning how to deal with stress like Jesus did is a lesson I needed to learn.
There is one particular story that really struck me about how Jesus handled stress in His life. (Matthew Matt.4:23-25, Mark 1:21-39 **my favorite account**, and Luke 4:31-44) Jesus had just begun his ministry, and Luke's account tells us that Jesus had just been in Nazareth- his hometown- where his message was so ill received, that the people in the synagogue were in a rage against him. They were so mad they wanted to throw him off a cliff!
Jesus left Nazareth and travelled to Capernaum, where he began teaching them in the synagogue on the Sabbath. Jesus was still a relative unknown, and while he was teaching, a man with an unclean spirit came up to him, declaring him "the Holy One of God". Jesus immediately rebuked him and the demon left. The news of this miracle got out, and pretty soon it was spreading like wildfire all over town.
He left the synagogue and went to Peter's house where Peter's mother-in-law was sick with a debilitating fever. They immediately asked Jesus to see to her, and he healed her. While all this was happening, the people of the city and surrounding villages heard the miraculous news about the synagogue and started bringing him people to heal. Mark's account tells us that "the whole city was at their door". I can't imagine the crush of people that surrounded Peter's house, but Jesus saw to them and healed them. What a job that must have been.
It's the end of this story that really struck me, because the VERY NEXT THING that Jesus did, after teaching and healing and preaching and caring for an entire city's worth of sick and afflicted people was to escape. "In the early morning, while it was still dark, Jesus go up, left the house, and went away to a secluded place, and was praying there. Simon (Peter) and his companions searched for Him; they found Him and said to Him, "Everyone is looking for You." (Mark 1:35-37) And y'all, I bet they were.
Jesus had just spent nearly an entire night healing the sick and casting out demons, and the thing he needed most, the first thing he did to cope, the first steps he took to decompress was to rest and reconnect with His Father. He recognized where His strength came from, and He realized that He needed to lean on that Relationship to keep Him strong enough to survive the life and events and stresses of His ministry.
I, on the other hand, have not always seen my need to rest and reconnect as being that important. When I'm stressed with the kids and need an outlet to decompress, I've been known to jump onto social media or browse delicious recipes on Pinterest or text my husband ridiculous ecards or just about anything besides what I really need to be doing to empower myself to survive this crazy life I lead: JESUS.
Instead of logging on to Facebook or Instagram to decompress during stressful afternoons, I feel so much better when I escape into my quiet, dark bedroom, and seek Jesus' solace. The kids can knock on the door and bang on the walls for my attention just as well if I'm in there for five minutes as much as they could if I had my nose glued to my iPhone while I hid on the opposite side of a locked bathroom door. Reconnecting to Jesus is peaceful. Reconnecting to my wireless signal is playtime. And, if I'm feeling particularly stressed and void with my Instagramless moment, I can always throw a hashtag into my prayers with air quotes because Jesus will understand those, too.
Before I became a Mom, when I'd read the story of Jesus calming the storm (found in Matt. 8, Mark 4, Luke 8) I'd always be surprised that Jesus could actually sleep through such a terrific thunderstorm such a tiny boat. Now that I'm a Mom I can totally get it BECAUSE HE MUST HAVE BEEN WORN SLAP OUT. His abilibiy to sleep through that storm, to me, is a testament to just how drained He felt. Stress exhaustion makes much, much more sense to me now that I've experienced my own versions of pressure and sleep depravation and . Because there are days when I think I could take a nap in the hull of a boat during a storm, too.
On this side of the never ending, never quitting, never-gonna-clock-out-for-the-day stream of the stress of Motherhood and all the interruptions that come along with them: I GET IT NOW. Jesus needed to reconnect and I do, too. His life, His ministry, His mission was one of constant interruptions. There was even one time when he was in the middle of preforming one miracle, was interrupted- preformed a second- then went back and completed the first miracle that he'd started. (Matt. 9, Mark 5, Luke 8) And I thought my struggle to complete a full circut of laundry from hamper to closet was tough. Mercy, y'all! Jesus was the Master multitasker.
And that's my takeaway. I used to live an uninterrupted life. I used to be able to start and finish tasks. BUT THEN I HAD KIDS. And now, my life is different. The value of my life is no longer based on starting and finishing tasks. It's surrounded by three precious little interruptiosn and the duties I've been given to raise them. I can take steps and measures to ensure that my waking hours are as productive and fruitful as possible, but I have to let go of the comparision of what my life used to be like to what it is now. Because there is no way I would ever want to go back to my 100%-completed-to-do-list, perfectly-folded-towel-and-washrag, spoiled-milk-sippy-cupless life. Because my kids are blessed messes. I may be tired, and my days may be long, and I may not get to wash my hair everyday, but it's the best kind of exhausted I could ever think to be.
Jesus knew the value of taking time to himself to rest and reconnect when He was stressed. And it's time I took that lesson to heart, too.
Beautiful and inspiring thoughts Katie!
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