Monday floods and Friday gifts.


It’s Friday.  My mind has been abuzz all week and when I sat down this evening to write, this is not what I had in mind.

Monday was a terrible, icky kinda of a day, one that I hope is not too soon repeated.  Among other things, the hose on the dishwasher gave out and I was summoned downstairs by my son to a couple inches of warm water all over the kitchen floor…..the pine floor.  What a sight… son and I mopping the water down the stairs off of the floor while my 8.5 month pregnant daughter-in-law sopped up what was left with virtually every bathroom towel we own.  I suppose the good news was that my feet were lovely and pink and clean… Tuesday and Wednesday are a bit of a blur, honestly, and Thursday brought with it a breath of fresh air when a friend and I trekked to the big City for lunch, a movie and, of course, a trip to Costco.  The best part of our time, though, was the 2 hour drive over when we did what we women do when we get together – we talked.  We shared our struggles, our secrets, our sins, our unanswered prayers and, of course, some tears.  We didn’t fix anything, but it was just what this woman needed.

In the midst of kids, meals, laundry, groceries and the office, I spent a large part of this week silent and in my head.  I found myself rather emotional; tears were often close and prior to my Thursday away, any effort to try to convey what was going on was just too much. Much easier, at least for the moment, to stuff.  Keep myself busy, do what needs to be done without complaining, be strong yet not too strong…….definitely don’t want to be a burden to anybody.  I wanna be…….Superwoman!

Ya, but I’m most definitely not.

I was not a teenage girl who spent every Sunday morning in the nursery for the love of children.   I babysat to make some money.  I wasn’t and still am not the fun aunt who played stupid but fun games with silly string and whipping cream with my nieces and nephews.  I’m not the mom who does arts and crafts or spends afternoons in the kitchen baking cookies.  I don’t home school my kids ’cause I have a passion to spend every waking hour with them and at times I’ve wondered if I’m doing more damage than good……until I hear what goes on in the schools.  My days of being creative in the kitchen have come…..and gone, for the most part; cooking is a line on my “to do” list and just because I have a passel of children, it doesn’t mean I have “a gift”.  Being a mom is neither a ministry nor a profession.

At times I’ve had this weird, almost dream-like experience where I’m sitting around the dining room table, surrounded by all of these people, and I look around and realize that they’re my kids.

God’s gifts to me.  gift boxes

Despite my inadequacies, my fears, my frailties; despite myself, God, who knows me best, has seen fit to bless me.

With the arrival of each, he has stretched my capacity to love and the greatest gift my children – these people whose lives are so intricately woven with mine – have given me has been learning to love them unconditionally.

It’s an ongoing post-non graduate course that I’m enrolled in for the foreseeable future.



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