I'm going to post pictures soon--pictures of the Zulu uprising kids and the 5 gallons of strawberry mead that we racked this morning; pictures of heat waves rising off the back patio and the dog wallowing in the puddle left when the kids ran through the sprinkler, if I can.
But it was A Heck of A Day. And I use Heck advisedly.
I don't know why days like this occur. I think I'll probably get to heaven and discover that on all these days when I was squeezed and I managed not to yell, that was when my soul was taking a polish. Or something. In the meantime, it kinda stinks. I mean, I can't complain--I can't complain anyway, because God is in charge and whatever He has come along, well, it's the exercise of submitting to His will--but I mean, not even anything very bad happened.
It was the Death of a Thousand Cuts, instead. Kids discovering their drum and drumsticks again. And a new motorcycle toy I bought Buddy on a whim as we passed a garage sale last night that I didn't realize was battery-powered and very clicky. That of course became the favored toy of the hour. And a baby who figured out he can yell back at his sister, and who spent the day yelling happily at the ceiling fan. And a husband trying desperately to get some things done on the computer. And a mama who wanted to finish a short story, but who decided halfway through that was a stupid ambition. And diapers that need washing, and pork chops that *someone* forgot to thaw, and hot muggy weather, and an upsurge in the spider population because the bug spray is wearing off and..and...and...
You almost think it would be easier to accept BIG things as being from the hand of God. Like an illness. Ka-wham. Obviously that is from Him. But somehow I've got it in my head that if I could just work my day correctly, that everything would always be peaceful and calm, and I would never end up rocking two kids to bed two hours past their bedtime, lulling them into unconsciousness with clever use of The Three Musketeers (the 90s version with Keifer Sutherland as Aramis--remember that, Aunt Kenny? I fast forwarded the scene with the creepy prison guard).
When, in reality, every bit of this day was from Him. And when I finally stopped trying to force it into the way I wanted it to be and rode the waves of His will, it got better. Not easier, but better.
So, here's to tomorrow--and to writing things down in a blog post so that I can remind myself later.
But it was A Heck of A Day. And I use Heck advisedly.
I don't know why days like this occur. I think I'll probably get to heaven and discover that on all these days when I was squeezed and I managed not to yell, that was when my soul was taking a polish. Or something. In the meantime, it kinda stinks. I mean, I can't complain--I can't complain anyway, because God is in charge and whatever He has come along, well, it's the exercise of submitting to His will--but I mean, not even anything very bad happened.
It was the Death of a Thousand Cuts, instead. Kids discovering their drum and drumsticks again. And a new motorcycle toy I bought Buddy on a whim as we passed a garage sale last night that I didn't realize was battery-powered and very clicky. That of course became the favored toy of the hour. And a baby who figured out he can yell back at his sister, and who spent the day yelling happily at the ceiling fan. And a husband trying desperately to get some things done on the computer. And a mama who wanted to finish a short story, but who decided halfway through that was a stupid ambition. And diapers that need washing, and pork chops that *someone* forgot to thaw, and hot muggy weather, and an upsurge in the spider population because the bug spray is wearing off and..and...and...
You almost think it would be easier to accept BIG things as being from the hand of God. Like an illness. Ka-wham. Obviously that is from Him. But somehow I've got it in my head that if I could just work my day correctly, that everything would always be peaceful and calm, and I would never end up rocking two kids to bed two hours past their bedtime, lulling them into unconsciousness with clever use of The Three Musketeers (the 90s version with Keifer Sutherland as Aramis--remember that, Aunt Kenny? I fast forwarded the scene with the creepy prison guard).
When, in reality, every bit of this day was from Him. And when I finally stopped trying to force it into the way I wanted it to be and rode the waves of His will, it got better. Not easier, but better.
So, here's to tomorrow--and to writing things down in a blog post so that I can remind myself later.
1 comment:
I remember it well... actors ranging from the moody, to hilarious. At least, I remember it being hilarious to a 10 year old.
-Kindra
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