the journey of grace

I have found myself saying to myself, these past few weeks, "Ok, this isn't going to be fun, but I can do this. Lord, help me to be strong. Help me serve and push through." 

It was first a response to Luke's comment last Wednesday evening. We were on a date when he said, "Yeah, it's kind of like saying 'goodbye' to you for now. I am going to have to work like crazy through the first week of February." I was already feeling physically weak. Two of the kids had the flu earlier in the week and I ran around like a crazy person, comforting, helping, cleaning and wishing that I was three people. So I saw the reality of it right away. Long days with no down time and no daddy coming home to break things up. No good quality time for us. Sometimes that is just life and so I reassured him that we'd be ok. 

Well, Friday evening I was alone with the kids and he was at work "working like crazy" when he cut himself with a circular saw. I got the call as I was making dinner. "I'll need your help when I get home. I cut myself." I had been to the warehouse earlier that day where he was working. I knew there was nothing but power tools there. "Oh no, how bad??" "I'm not sure yet. I still have my glove on." I am a wimp when it comes to wounds (especially on people who I love). He walked in. I took one look at the mess of blood under the ripped glove and knew it was too much for us to handle alone while keeping tabs on the kiddos. I made a call to my parents. My dad did awesome with helping Luke clean and wrap it then we went to get a second opinion to make sure we weren't missing anything. The healing will take time . . . it's pretty bad . . . but it could have been much worse. The lesson learned: don't wear gloves while using power tools. Best we can figure, his glove caught on the blade and pulled his finger into it. It happened so fast . . . like all of that stuff does. 

Saturday we began to realize just how much a severe wound effects your ability to live every day life. Luke was groaning all day about how he was no help to me with the kids. I discovered very quickly the truth that my husband helps a lot when he is home. No longer was there another person who could pick up the baby, change kids' clothes, do some dishes, tie shoes . . . in fact, the poor guy couldn't tie his own shoes. We took thirty minutes cleaning and re-bandaging that day. Just. So. Messy. So I said again, "Ok, I can do this. Help me push through, Lord." 

Monday. Back to the work schedule. Luke wasn't home for dinner but I was thankful that the evening was going well. The kids were happy and we had had a good day together. "Thank you, Lord." But I was counting down the hours until he would be home. Hopefully before the kids go to bed, I thought, so they could see daddy a little. He came in and crashed . . . went to bed pretty quick, saying that he didn't feel good. Apparently the flu the kids had has about a four day incubation period. 

Tuesday night left about five hours for sleep and was interrupted about five times. I started Wednesday feeling tired to the point of numb. As I washed the kids' bedding I craved a bed like I have seldom craved one before. "If for only ten minutes" I would think . . . but right now there is no such thing. Zeke is the sweetest. He notices if I am off so he asked, "What's wrong, mommy?" "Just tired, buddy." He pulled a fleece blanket to the hall, got a pillow, and made a bed for me. I tried to explain, "You're a sweet boy, Zeke, but mommy can't sleep here. I have the girls to take care of." He didn't miss a beat. "Here's my doggy, Rascal, mommy. I'll do the girls for you." 

And so why in the world am I not sleeping now? I lay in frustration this evening and started praying, "God, what is up with me? Why can I not sleep? I have to have some sleep or tomorrow will be a mess." I stopped short and knew my answer. He alone is sufficient. More than sleep. More than my own resolves. More than having the help of my husband. When I am weak, He is strong and sufficient. 

I pondered the question I have been mulling over for a while. "Am I willing to always, consistently and without exception, put myself last in the affairs of every day life? Will my husband's needs and the needs of my children be more important to me than my comfort, my sleep, my food, my quiet, my everything?" For a while I have felt like the answer really was a "yes" though, daily, my flesh says what my two and four year old have been known to say: "I don't want to!" :-) But now I realize that it's more than that. Am I willing to live that way even if no one notices the effort? Not the outside world. But not even my husband or my children? Is it all for Him and because I love Him, therefore, striving to please Him? Or is it still for me and my love of being loved back? 

I run from the "gods" of pleasure straight into the arms of the god of being appreciated. 

But that's still living for me. And it's not having God be everything to me. 

He died for me. He suffered in ways that my sheltered little self and soft life cannot even comprehend. How seldom I appreciate it! 

No resolve will suffice. Only Him. 

Humbling. 

Comforting. 

Someday soon I will fall at the feet of Jesus. Because of Him. Because He birthed me into new life. 

How I want to have a crown to lay at His feet. Something with which to show Him the love that He gave me for Himself. 

Pictures of my precious ones: 

Charis' expression makes me laugh. 

My seven month bundle! Thriving and starting to eat solids and crawl.

My sweet Eden. She built this herself and rushed over to show her brother saying, "Zeke! Zeke!" 

My lego boy! 

Charis. This girl is about to turn three but . . . low and behold . . . she does not want to be three! She does not want a party. She do not want cake. Presents. Nothing. She's as determined about this is as she is about everything else. :-) She reminds me of myself . . . but like, on steriods or something. :-)

Yes, my kitchen is still torn apart and the counter tops have to go. Ah . . . it'll be a little adventure. ;-)