On Wednesday BJ (Will) came home at lunch to feed the masses
so that I could go for a run and on my way out the door several of my sweet
children were concerned about my missing lunch, “Aren’t you hungry, what will
you eat? Don’t you want to stay and have
lunch?” Bless your adorable little
hearts but I would rather go Survivor on this run and eat nuts and berries
along the way then stick around for another session of the feeding frenzy. This is not intended with even the slightest
manner of maliciousness but it is meant in complete sincerity. I dearly love my children but filling their
bellies multiple times a day is a full-time job in itself, so if Will is
gracious enough to give up his lunch hour to allow me to indulge in a quiet run
then I gladly hand over the apron and sprint for the door.
Week three was relatively calm around here, we did not flood
the kitchen, attempt another drowning, we have not stuffed rotten food in coat
pockets and I have not seen any wet undies on the bedpost. We have worked hard to settle into a schedule
and we continue to shun the outside world as much as possible as we struggle to
find our new normal.
That is the kids this week, this is me this week -
completely and profoundly exhausted, entirely overwhelmed, and battling
moments of intense loneliness. Regardless
of the 16 hours per day of steady work there is still mounds of schoolwork left
undone, countless dishes and messes around my house, menus and grocery lists
unfinished, and multiple projects of varying importance that lay
untouched. And this week the weight of
my family came crashing down on me and the unending emotional, spiritual,
relational, educational and mental needs and demands of these 6 wonderful
people felt as if they might suffocate me.
I left for another run on this Friday lunch hour and my
chest was tight as the frustration and loneliness bore down on me and I ran and
we talked and I fought back tears and He whispered words of love and comfort
and reminded me that He is always listening.
And in the intense moments of loneliness He was always just a slight cry
away and in the moments that I was too exhausted to utter even a small cry that
the inaudible sigh and cry of my heart was heard.
I continued to run and He continued to talk and He reminded
me that no one, no husband, no father or mother, no sister or dear friend can
carry this burden for me. That while my
family and friends can come along side and offer a cold cup of an encouraging
word or rally behind me with a well-timed and loving prayer, they cannot bear
up under this cross He has asked me to carry.
No, only He can stand up under this weight with me, this is our cross to
bear. My loved ones have their own
bundle of cares to carry so He gently reminds me that it is He who stands
beside me and that while I am not sufficient that His grace is. I run on and we continue to talk quietly and
in His love and graciousness He allows me to bear my soul and talk of the hurt
and the fear and He soothes and comforts.
As I walk back up the porch steps my chest is tight again
and my eyes filled with tears but now it is not frustration and loneliness that
clamp down but an indescribable gratitude for His friendship and
compassion.
Right now five of my six sit quietly tucked onto the couches
watching Snow White and I enjoy this quiet hour (the first since last week when
they watched another movie.) As I look
back over this week, this week three, I realize that not only did He bear up
under this load alongside me but He swept down and took up this load into His
arms and in His sweeping down He has not only picked up my burden but He has
swooped me up into His arms too. And I have
glided along in His arms and He has held me and my toes dangle down gently
moving along this new race that He has set before me. And the moments where I hit the ground hard
and was bruised and battered were only the moments I forgot to look up into the
face of the One Who has already prepared the way for me.
So we race on into week 4 and I am reminded that when I look to Him I am radiant (Ps. 34:5)
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