I think my Lord hears heart grumbling louder than if I were shouting in the grocery store. His response is always so swift and undeniable.
I was sitting down in the chair to nurse my youngest before her nap. I always keep a few different books on a table by the chair in her room, and I picked up a "Chicken Soup" book designed for a mother's soul. (A copy lent from my own mother, thanks a lot, Mom.) I really didn't have a place marked, and I've not been reading it through--just opened up and started reading. But my heart had been grumbling, "Oh, man. I'm so tired. So chronically tired. Will I ever feel perky and well rested ever again?" I justified my grumbles with a long list of reasons for being fed up with fatigue.
Now I know it's not right to complain. I have a business that has to be run when my people are asleep, my four year old is combating Coxsackie virus (A.K.A. "Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease--it really is as horrible as it sounds), and my hubby's working overtime plus teaching a night class two nights a week. I'm tired. And, great! My throat is sore. I can't forget to get night lights at the store and get my bridesmaid's dress hemmed. That's right--I get to be a breastfeeding bridesmaid.
All that mess was running through my head as I sat down in the chair and unclipped my nursing bra. Then I started to read. A story about a mama dropping her girl off at a college dorm, returning home to an empty room, and a house with clean bathrooms and total silence. Yikes. That one hit me between the eyes.
Funny how I picked up that book. I could have re-read about the symptoms and treatment of coxsackie virus for the fourteenth time. But I didn't. I could have indulged in reading more about our upcoming Disney vacation, but not that time. I finished the short story and thought about how I will have all the time in the world--later. I won't be wrestling the baby into sleep sacks or begging Joanna to go to the potty. These childhoods are flying by, faster than I can describe. So while now I look like "that woman" walking into church ten minutes late (okay, fifteen!) and herding her children down the aisle to find a seat, I know there will come a day when I don't get to carry crayons and baby snacks in my purse.
Lord, I'm so thankful. Thank you for my house full of life, and the piles of clean clothes that never make it back into drawers. Thank you for all of Joanna's pocketbooks that I trip over all day long. Thank you, Lord, for a nice soft chair where Hallie loves to spend the night....for all the love in this little family. I am so blessed! The house will be fine, the work will get done. But for now, I'll breathe in this time and try to rid myself of heart grumbles.
