“It’s hotter than a microwave out there!” my seven-year-old exclaims as he runs back into the house. Despite my frustration, I can’t help but laugh. Where does he get his flare for the dramatic?
I put away dishes and my mind races to find something for my boys to do. Little brother sees Jay and wrestles him to the ground. After gasping for breath and stumbling off the floor, my oldest chases him through the house until little one crashes on the floor, screaming.
I wonder how it’s possible neither one of them has a concussion. I wonder why it’s so difficult to keep them from killing each other on these endless summer days.
“How about we put some more water in the kiddie pool?” I say, trying to muster some enthusiasm. I remember the previous day when my youngest bit through his tongue after falling off the side of the pool.
My nerves are so thin they’re transparent. When my toddler requests his 100th snack for the day I feel like spreading out the remains of our fridge on the floor and telling him to help himself.
Why is this so hard? How can these little pieces of me that bring me so much joy one moment send me clamoring for a piece of sanity the next?
In my silent pleas to God, I think he must be losing his patience with his overtired mama. I ask him for peace. I ask him for strength.
Yes, I ask him for patience too. And please don’t tell me asking for patience is asking for a trial to test my patience. I’ll keep on asking for it anyway.
In the middle of all my pleading and venting to a God I’m sure is chuckling at some of my kids’ antics, he gives me a hug. And it’s wrapped in the tiny package of my oldest son.
“I’ll never say ‘no’ to a hug,” my big boy says with a smile. He wraps himself around me tight and I can feel the tension in my body release.
In the middle my meltdowns and nerves over my kids, God often wrecks me with their grace.
They don’t hold it back. It flows out of them as naturally as water from a riverbed.
I see myself as the exhausted mama who can’t hold it together but to them I’m superwoman, dispensing an endless smorgasbord of snacks and kissing countless boo-boos.
God reaches down in the middle of all my ordinary, lingering summer days and says, “I’m here. Don’t give up. Don’t quit.”
Some of God’s greatest miracles are not in the thunder and the noise, but in the everyday mundane.
When we recognize those moments and allow them to linger just a little more, we catch glimpses of his glory. And as take it in, his glory reflects in us with new radiance.
*Linking up with Suzie Eller’s #LiveFreeThursday. Come join us and be inspired.