Toothpaste Tears
I just finished crying real, stinging tears. You know, the kind that feel like you have a hot tube of toothpaste being squeezed through your eyes? (Well, maybe not. I just came up with that right now on the spot, so bear with me.) You get what I’m saying, though. It’s the kind of sobbing that hurts and ranks right up there with the worst kind. Sorry for all the drama. I just feel like the worst mother.
Today was really hard. The whole week has been hard frankly. I won’t go into all the details, but it has been one of those weeks that makes me feel like our kids are teaming up to see who can wear us out first. On top of rounds of sickness were numerous battles and attitude problems all around (and within), and our dining room wall now boasts a rather large, impressionist mural (”de Sharpie Marker”) mastered by my older two children. Yes, we will have to repaint. There have been crazy things like 30+ shreds of wet paper found in the sheets, a new toilet paper roll thrown right into the toilet bowl, and “innocent” “wrestling” with their 11-month sick sister. I just didn’t know if I could take much more tonight when I asked Lydia to bring me Steven’s pj shorts from downstairs and she disappeared with Steven for at least 10 minutes. Finally I came downstairs and found them getting into more trouble, and I just let them have it. I scolded them and got so angry and told them to go right upstairs and they were going straight to bed. When I tucked Lydia into her bed, she kept wanting to pray, and honestly I didn’t want to. I was still mad about the whole day and how testy and disobedient they had been. I’m always begging God to give me the wisdom to discern between childishness and foolishness, and I was sure all I saw today was foolishness. After I left her room I wrapped a few things up to prepare for our trip tomorrow and walked back downstairs, still murmuring.
I stopped on the carpet. On the couch there were several little stacks of folded towels, underwear, and the socks lined up with their mates. She had even attempted to fold a few of Eric’s shirts. I had not even asked her to do it, and my three year-old daughter had been folding the laundry for me. I’m still crying right now thinking about it. God held up a huge sign to me reading, “Wake up! Stop complaining and look right in front of your nose at how much you are BLESSED.”
I hate writing posts like this because they’re humiliating, but I am sure from past experience that there is someone reading this who is going through a hard time and battling contentment and sinning in the wake. Let me come with you, brother or sister, and put my arm around you. We are most blessed who know Christ! We only need to look around and see the ways that God is tenderly loving us every day.
In the morning I will ask forgiveness of my Lydia, but I’m sure with her childlike heart, she will offer no pause and throw her arms around me in wholesome joy, just like God.
Posted in Humility, Joy in Trials, Lydia
You’ve got a great blog here. (This was my first visit.) And yes, I can totally relate to this post. Sheesh. Mothering can be so humbling!
I know exactly how you feel…I know that I shouldn’t pray for patience, because God will give me lots of situations in which to test it, but I feel as though the older I get…the less patience I have. However, I am so glad that our children are forgiving and can always make us smile even when we are ready to scold them! Thanks for a great post!
just read your post- know that i am praying for you and your week and your sweet blessings. it’s not easy to ask forgiveness of your daughter- but from my experience, it is one of the best ways to teach our children that we need God’s grace, just like they do. you are not the only one who has ever asked forgiveness from their child- it is humbling, but the hugs are so sweet. i am in the trenches with you sister!!
Kristi,
Have I ever told you that I cherish you, because you make me feel so very normal! Thank you for sharing! I am sorry that you have had a rough week. Once again, our lives seem to mimic each other. Our girls have been sick– and cranky. And, we have our very own little Picaso on our hands. In a very delibearte attempt to get my attention while I was meeting with the woman who disciples me, Hannah used not one, or two, but every color of the rainbow to create the most abstract 2 foot x 2 foot wall decoration next to her bed– in the apartment we RENT! At least it’s crayon and not Sharpie. (Side note, if anyone can tell me the best method for removing this wall art– please share!)
Know that I am praying for you. Children (though a blessing) are most assuredly for our sanctification! Haha! I so wish we lived close to each other. I would like to feel normal on a more frequent basis!
lori, i do believe the crayon will come off with “goo gone.” i tried it for the sharpie, but it didn’t work. i take crayon prices off everything i buy from goodwill with goo gone
Hi Kristi. I can relate. I’ve been having a rough week too–so I can easily pray for you. God is faithful. Thank you for sharing what He’s teaching you through all this.
I have a friend with teenagers. When her children were small, she cried every day. She has one son in particular who was very difficult. But all her children are believers now, and are a huge blessing. I remember her whenever I have a hard day. She says, “Your children are a blessing now, but just wait, if you persevere they will be even more of a blessing when they are teenagers!”
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