Yeah, so I’ve been losing it the last few days. I know, you know, we all know. Some of it is hormones, some of it is just trying to figure out how to work (write) and raise you all well and keep a decently cleaned home, homeschool you, and make dinner instead of ordering pizza — again.
I’m sorry, but I’m in this weird place of trying to figure it all out. I’m trying to figure out how to discipline you all so you listen and honor me and my words and for gosh sakes STAY IN BED. I’m trying. Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy because there are three of you and one of me and your daddy is working so hard and I am just going to screw it all up sometimes.
Right now, I’m locked in the bedroom, and one of you is singing in a high-pitched voice. I want to scream, “PLEASE JUST BE QUIET!” But you’re also giggling and enjoying each other even though I was harsh with you. You’re playing together, and I love that.
Sometimes I just want to hide away, go under, under, under the covers until there’s quiet. I feel guilty for this, because somewhere in me there’s this twisted notion that I should have it all together by now, especially as an adult, a mom, a Christian. But here’s the thing, kids: I do not have it together. Obviously.
And it’s why I need Jesus and it’s why you do too. I will let you down. I will fail you sometimes. I will yell and I will regret it, and I will say I’m sorry a thousand times and mean it every time. And I will get better because God’s working in me, but I won’t ever be completed this side of heaven.
I am dust. And dust is messy.
You are dust too.
Here’s the good news: we are dust together, imperfect, prone to screw up, humans through and through, but we have the breath of God in us and the Holy Spirit divinely entwined with us.
I am weak and strong, holy and sinful. We have this in common, you all and me.
So what I really want to say is this: I love you so much it hurts, and I am grateful every day that you are my kids, my people, my team. I love who you are and I see God in you and I love watching you unfold into who you’re becoming. I love you, and my love never changes, even when my moods do. Even when I lose it or when I hide away, it’s never you; it’s me. I am learning every day, by faith, how to keep going and mother you well and be okay with this frail me.
And don’t you think for a second that I’ll give up. I won’t. I will keep going because that’s what love does. Love never fails.
Jesus never fails. He will never let you down, and when you think He has, you wrestle it out with Him and cry and go through all the guttural feelings as you pray, “Teach me to see you, God.”
When you have wrestled it out and settled it in your soul that He is good, you will see Him. And you will know down into the deepest places of your being that He will never leave you or fail you or unlove you.
Hang on for dear life to Him. I will too, because we’re in this together.