One Beautiful Life

One Little Heaving Beautiful Life

I didn't have a blog when I miscarried the first time.  If I had, I would have written about stomping my foot.  I would have wanted my friends to see that I have moments of flesh just like the best of them.  So that is why I write the hard stuff... the not so glamorous moments of One Beautiful Life.  And there is another reason.  I KNOW God will walk with me through it.  I KNOW He will reveal himself to me and show me what He wants me to see.  So why not walk with you through it instead of just sharing the triumph at the end.

My posts lately have been far from decorating tips, sunshine happy photos and recipes.  My life is far from that right now.  And I know there are several of you out there who also can't seem to find that sunshine happy photo right now.  You know it is there, buried in some drawer somewhere or deep in a file... so how about we'll just look for it together!

Yesterday, I searched around for some of those wallpaper covered walls.  And pretty quickly I found six.  Six.  Right off the cuff.  I thought I would be walking through some of that today but God had something else in mind.

Exhaustion.  Depletion.  Running on empty.  Those are the words that describe me lately.  Being in that state for sometime now has really taken a toll on me.  Discouragement came in and camped out in the middle of my house and I simply walked around her instead of booting her out.  As she continued to shoot her arrows at my heart, Hopelessness knocked on the door and I simply opened it and invited her inside as well.

"What am I doing this for?" and "What in the world do I ever accomplish?" became two thoughts that played over and over in my mind like a broken record.  I don't think I am the only woman/mother that has felt this way.  I clean the floors (no small task) and in an hour, they are covered with dirt, leaves, prints, crumbs and mung again.  I empty the laundry hampers and in one day they are somehow full again.  I clean the kitchen up and mere hours later it is dirty and needing cleaning... again...for the third/fourth time that day.  I clean and organize the kid's rooms and in less than 12 hours, they are dismantled again.  I correct, discipline, love and teach my children and two hours later... they are at each other again.  It's like the movie, Groundhog Day!  The same grind... over and over and over... never anything "done".  Never finished.

So little by little I have stopped caring.  Why?  Why bother working so hard to only watch it disappear in half a day? Why care about the mess when it only makes you feel like a failure?  Stop caring.  Stop trying.  Those became the thoughts that answered the replaying questions.

God had an answer planned for today.

She walked into my room at 5:30 this morning. She was crying and I immediately ran her to the bathroom... just in time for her to blow.  I am still amazed we made it to the toilet.  As she threw up, she started apologizing.  "Mommy, I am sorry I am sick.  I am sorry I threw up in my bed."  I reassured her there was no need to apologize and my day flashed before me.  My husband was on a trip and gone.  My preschooler would be staying home just in case this is the flu and my older one would be car pooling.

My next thoughts raced to the Tamiflu we have had for over a year now in the pantry.  Prayers offered that I would not get this.  Tamiflu taken.  Preschooler fed and situated on the sofa in front of the television (his dream come true!).  Sick one nestled in bed.  Temperature taken.  Tamiflu and Tylenol given and prayers offered over her.

And then she was up again.  Racing to my bathroom.  As I held her hair out of her face and rubbed her back, she asked me between breaths, "Am I doing great Mommy?"  My little fighter.  My strong one who knows all too well how to handle not feeling well, looking for my approval during throwing up.

My heart hurt for a moment.  It was like another movie, the Grinch, when his heart grows.  As I snuggled her back into the blankets and gathered her stuffed animals in around her I was struck with it... that deep mother's affection that takes control of everything inside you.  And I heard it, "This is why you keep doing it... this is why you care."

Due to her own wounds and spiritual battles, my little fighter can push me away all too often.  The push pull relationship we have causes me deep grief.  As I looked at her laying there, I realized we are more alike than I have ever realized.  I, due to my own wounds and spiritual battles, have a push pull relationship with the Lord... and with my husband.  And it causes both of them deep grief.  My daughter has the hardest time simply accepting my love.  I have the hardest time accepting the Father's love... and my husband's.

She was broken today.  As her little body heaved and her stomach reached deep to find just the tiniest offering to pull forth... she reached for me, she needed me, and she accepted my love.

My little spiritual body is heaving and reaching down deep... trying to find the tiniest little offering to pull forth.  It is time for me reach for Him, accept and rest in my reliance on Him, and figure out how to really... really... accept His love.  And how to abide in it.