Nothing to Say

Note: I wrote this a few weeks ago so may seem to be out of timeline if you know me personally

I don’t have anything to say. I can’t tell if it’s because of peace that surpasses understanding or mental exhaustion that surpasses understanding.  Normally when I sit down to write, especially when I have the time away from babies and Mt.Laundry that is located in my bedroom, I usually have something to say. I have some  thing in my mind that I cannot dislodge until I have written it to death.  But today is different. It is, but in so many ways today is not different. The moment I exited my bedroom this morning I was in my normal world of mommy chaos. A girl had thrown up in the night and didn’t cry so I found her in the morning in her crib layered with dry vomit on her head, on her jammies and half of her bed. After bath my son pushed my other daughter off of a high place which caused her to bleed which then required tearful discipline; the tears both from my son and I. The day unraveled with similar events and now two of my children have new wounds, one which covers half of a girls face. Rest assured I am exhausted just like you, just like every other mom in the world. Doesn’t matter what age, what stage, how many kids you have, what birth spacing or special needs you face, if you are a mom, you are exhausted. If you have or have had in your care and have attached your heart  to another sinful being in the position of mother, your heart is tired in some way shape or form. The obvious reasons are easy to focus on, poopy diapers, messes, snotty attitudes and noses, bad decisions and ones made by your kids too, viruses, lies, vegetable intake, hygiene, serious illness, birth control,  laundry, laundry, laundry.  But care to think sweet  heart, it may be tired because of blessing. It may be tired because you’ve asked Jesus to change your heart, whatever the cost and He has begun that work in you in whatever trial your mommy heart is facing…..through the terrible two’s ……..ugh………..or much much worse. Your heart may be tired because you’ve been staring at your cotton candy sweet newborn angel babe for five whole minutes and your heart aches from stretching for the love that inflates it. Or your heart may be weary from carrying some unfathomable burden, a sick child, a lost child, a lost father of your child, a child gone to Jesus. My burden is nothing compared to so many and I am blessed in my bliss of teeny tiny, itty bitty problems.  Bottom line: your tired, I’m tired for many many reasons but today I it doesn’t really bother me. Have you ever felt this way? Tired has become sort of a shirt I put on every day. I don’t want to wear it, but I don’t really have anything else to wear because my laundry isn’t done. It’s not my favorite shirt, it makes me look fat but I’m used to it right now, it’s almost kind of comfy. Sometimes when I get enough sleep and I’m not sick I forget to take it off. So I don’t’ need to talk about that, or really any other pressing thing, and ooooh there are pressing things, but in light of eternity they truly just don’t even barely matter. So what I want to say really, really what I want to say is oh how God is good, oh how Jesus is beautiful. Oh His mercy makes me smile, makes me revel, makes me elated. I want to say, no I want to sing, Holy, Holy, Holy are you Lord Jesus. You give life and love and joy where it is so very underserved……. To me. To the nail hammerer, to the one who spits on your face. I slander, rumor, I gossip, I don’t grant forgiveness at times, I curse, I lie, I lust and I fall to my knees in repentance too many times to ever count or remember.  Notice these are all present tense sins, and YET you bless me with snuggles from a girl with whispy curls and coral lips, with kisses from a boy who is honest and obedient, with love, passionate love from a man who loves you, who I could never ever deserve. Maybe what I do have to say is really what I want to ask…… Lord help me understand your unfathomable, unending grace and love. Take me to your cross again and again and never let me forget your beauty, your holiness. The work you did there. Impart your wisdom to me and to this reader. I humbly ask, let us know you more deeply Yahweh. As your mother knew better than any other, to know you is the greatest achievement that could ever be.

Potty and Training

I’m in bed at 9:20. This is not due to rest or luxury. I was up at 7, made breakfast, changed a diaper, put the toddlers in their seats and served up eggs, toast and smoothy. I sat down, prayed, read some scripture to the kids and started eating. The twins were done eating before I got into my second sip of tea. They looked tired but I didn’t want to put them in bed just to find in five minutes they had done their morning potty and would have to get them up. They are nearing two and my son has been poop trained since nine months so it seemed to me a good idea this morning as it sometimes does to try to let the twins go on the potty. So I stripped and sat them and they made efforts but no success. I decide to give them water to support movement. The cap slips as I am putting it on and water spills everywhere. Then the two year old announces that he needs to go potty. So in a laps of judgment I strip him down and tell him to go get on the big potty. He doesn’t want to. He wants to use the little potty that the girls are using and when a toddler wants to go poop anywhere that is not the floor or his diaper and relatively looks like a toilet you oblige him. My son goes on to fill the little potty which is to small for his capacity. I was watching the girls like a hawk when my son announces that he is done and bends over to get wiped and my daughter phina copies her brother and bends herself. When she bends over I see that her bottom is covered in poop, smashed poop.  Immediately time goes in to warp speed.  I wipe the two year old, wipe the one year old but need a second wipe to complete. Then I’m searching for the rest of the smashed poop. I can’t find it. I look back at the potty that my son just filled and Phina is sucking on the edge of it. I scream, she stops, I find the smashed poop, wipe the smashed poop off the wood floor and the wall. I go to put a diaper on the poop smasher, she has pooped more and is putting it in her mouth. I scream. I clean her hand and face and bottom again. I go throw away the dirty wipes encasing poo. I come back with a diaper, she has pooped again! This time it’s all contained still on her bottom. I clean her again, I go to empty the potty filled by the boy. As I walk down the hallway to the bathroom I see that somehow in the time warp someone has found the time to run down the hallway and unroll the toilet paper. I then go about searching for dead after the massacre. One white rug fell victim, fortunately all the other shots fired were aimed at the hard wood and the walls. Phina runs past as I am scrubbing the rug and I can smell that she has yes, pooped again. All this time my son is moaning for me to put his shoes and his coat on and he has taken them off two times already after I have performed this task this morning.  I put his shoes on and tell him to do the coat himself. I put the twins in bed with new clothes and new diapers. I collapse back into bed. The kitchen is a mess. There are eggs on the floor and dishes on the table, dirty pan on the stove and toys and kids clothes everywhere. The toilet paper is still unrolled. I am still not confident that all the poop is gone and my son is driving a toy car on my chest and all over my body as I write. I wish I could say that chaos like this is a rare moment but really it is a pretty normal two hours of our life. I think it’s pretty normal for many moms and to them I salute. Keep marching mamas we serve a worthy cause even if that cause carries in themselves an unimaginable amount of poop.  And so then we come to Jesus… wait… what? Yes, children who are filled with unimaginable amounts of poop does make me think of Jesus because I’m one of his kids and yes I even surprise myself with how much poo I have inside of me. Of course the poo is a word picture for sin. I think it’s quite fitting. Poo stinks, it makes a mess, no one wants to be around it, it can ruin lives…. Ok maybe poo can’t ruin lives though it sure feels like it today. I really am a kid full of poo though. Somedays I think I’m done pooping  and then I make a whole new mess and I am even surprised by it. I don’t want to stay a mess though so just like Phina I bend over and ask my heavenly father to clean me up. He does, with grace and patience.  So I guess my kids poop is making me a tiny bit more like Jesus, teaching me to have patience and grace in the most stinky situations and that is something I can be thankful for. Thank you Jesus for messes that remind me of the biggest mess that you so graciously cleaned and are cleaning. Your sacrifice astounds me.