Mothering is tough. It just is. I struggled with discouragement most of today. It was a beautiful day, but inside me was a storm. I was feeling overwhelmed by the bickering and grumpiness of 6 kids. I finally went for a long walk and talked to God and poured out all of my frustrations. The air, the sunshine, and the prayers cleared my head until I could face my family again.
I love being a mom, but I choose to love it. It’s not all sugar and spice. One thing that I’m grateful for is that I’m not alone. I have the support of family, friends, and readers. And most of all, I can rely on God’s promises. I was reminded of that again as I read this story from my dear friend Christine. Be blessed!
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I’m awake, but I don’t want to open my eyes. I know what the day holds for this mama when she gets up. Laundry. Fussiness. Dirty dishes. A grimy bathroom–lying in wait to greet me.
Despair. I don’t want to move, yet I must. I must fight. Maybe some time in the Word will refresh my soul. The words I read are true and my mind knows it, but my heart is numb. I read “His mercies are fresh every morning”
Now the stillness of morning is gone, and the children are rising like the sun. Bright. Ferocious. Intense. Tears are spilling on the floor over breakfast preferences, and little ones are refusing their mama. I want to run. Why is the fight so hard? I know his mercies are afresh, why can’t I feel it?
I want hard evidence, I want to feel, I want to know His grace is sufficient. I run.
Leaving my cares inside our little bungalow, I rush outside. I feel urgency, maybe even panic. Must feel, must know. How do I know it’s even morning? I can’t even see the sun rise. Buildings all around block out its awakening and warmth. I climb. Must fight for joy and sanity.
I find a way. Sure it’s not conventional but it will work. Haphazardly, I climb on top of the freezer chest, balancing on two plastic containers. Must find a way. My body pulls my weight up, and I have made it. I can see the hard evidence. I can feel the warmth. I can see and know His promise.
I feel hope. I don’t care what the neighbourhood thinks. This country girl needs to pretend she’s not in the city. I soak up the sunrise atop our small shed, and know that His Mercies are fresh every morning.
“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”