It’s a different kind of tired these days. The ash heap isn’t heaped quite as high, and yet it’s there. Others have swept some of their pile towards mine. I’ve walked through those ashes, tracking footprints around. Fitting for this time, I suppose.
I remember thinking somehow that things would get easier when the littles grew. I realize now that life just becomes a different kind of hard.
Following is a little glimpse into my life in the thick of the littles. . .
I am sitting in the midst of my mess. My ash heap. Physically, emotionally, spiritually.
With every fiber in my being I am resisting the urge to be up and doing. Fighting the “if only” lies…
If only my house were clean, organized, and decorated then things would be peaceful around here.
If only my body were exercised more regularly, more fashionable, then I would have confidence and like who God made me to be.
If only I had more time…this is the time I have.
My soul is weary. My body is weary. My heart is weary.
“I did it! I diiiiiiiiiid it!” The naptime call to be tended to in the bathroom.
I fight the urge to feel angry by focusing on the positives of potty~trained 4 year olds.
I enter the bathroom.
“Mommy, you’re tired.”
“Yes, I am, Coco.”
“You can take a rest if you like.”
“Thank you, Coco.”
The wisdom of a 4 year old. God knew I needed little people to come alongside of me, I guess. That must be why I have so many.