Blogger's Note: As I wrote this, I felt guilty about not dwelling more on God, his goodness, or his redemptive grace, because I know that he is constantly weaving everything together--the good and the bad; he is writing our stories, and every detail is included for a reason. He never gives us more than we can handle. If you've been a Christian for any amount of time, you know all the Sunday school answers, but let's face it: some days, they don't feel real.
This is about those days.
I live in the trenches of motherhood. I have the privilege to parent two wonderful, rambunctious boys--two years old and younger. They are two of the biggest blessings in my life, but in the midst of life, sometimes each day can feel like a full-on battle. No--a full-on war. One I'm not sure I'm winning.
Some days, if I pause for even a moment, the weightiness of life threatens to flatten me.
Their constant neediness.
My selfishness.
Their endless demands.
My exhaustion, which extends to a seemingly cellular level.
The endless crying, whining, yelling--not all of it from the boys...
The guilt about yelling.
The dissatisfaction with my life.
The guilt about that dissatisfaction.
The nagging feeling of ineffectualness.
The mind-numbing repetition--"yes, that IS a red block."
The overwhelming responsibility to shape these tiny terrorists into respectful, independent adults.
Discipline--always discipline.
The striving for patience amidst messes that seem to make themselves, housework left undone, and goals and good intentioned abandoned.
The living in survival mode, but missing the sense of fulfillment that comes with thriving.
Some days, I wake up bone-tired to two screaming little boys, a messy kitchen, and a bad attitude. Some days, as hard as I try, things don't get better. How's that for soul-baring honesty? Because that's the truth. Some days, all I want to do is lie on the couch and ignore the world--but I can't. Because I have two tiny terrorists running loose in my house.
Even David, the man after God's own heart, the anointed one, spent a great deal of time waiting for things to get better. Praying they would. Doubting God's promises, but clinging to them all the same. I'm learning that it's okay--if in that 24-hour window, or that week, or that month, or even that year--things don't get better.
Because then some days, they do. And that gives me hope--even in the trenches.
