Sometimes …. like right now, for example …. I am overwhelmed by the sameness of my sin. The same battles. The same ungratefulness. The same ugly heart.
For instance.
I want to be pregnant.
I’m not. Reconfirmed today. I should be nine months pregnant. I mean, how many times can I write about this? Washing impossibly tiny human clothes. Nesting. Sewing crib sheets.
But I’m not.
So I curl up in a ball under the covers in the dark and cry myself to sleep. I even let my mom take care of all the kids this morning while I whine to my big sister. (Still curled up under the covers ….).
Then, after I hang up the phone and hear the squeals of the beautiful babes I do have ringing through the hall …. when a sweet yogurt covered face peers into mine …. I throw back the covers, run down my list of thankfuls, sip from the grace poured out daily. I can beat this …. (editor’s note …. I think that’s part of the problem … “I” can beat this …. ).
Okay, crisis averted. Breathing prayers. Surrendering. Venture out into the hallway to scoop up the yogurt monster, hear his little feet slapping down the hallway. Catch a glimpse of my J girl sporting a leotard and a monkey backpack that she will. not. remove.
Then …. the yogurt monster hits his sister (already!). The monkey princess saunters off mid-correction.
I yell. I lose my temper. Patience, already a commodity in short supply, wisps away, a dream, a wished for reality …. I can’t take back the words, the harshness, ringing in the same halls their laughter pours into.
I turn on husband. He doesn’t understand, and I don’t let him. I hold hard little seeds of resentment that have to be dug out indivudally, a sharp reminder of my sameness, my sin.
Here we go again. Same sins. Same as yesterday, and the day before, and before that. Written about these too. And I curl up a little on the inside. Wish I could get back under the covers and cry.
How do I win the same battles, skirmishes really, that overrun me? How do I keep surrendering? How do I navigate the crashing sameness with the same promises. How do I keep the truth of the gospel a fresh taste on my lips, a balm for my ungrateful heart?
I have different answers at different times. Hope in reveling in the Word. Surrendering my babes to Him. Loving my days of small beginnings.
But today, in spite of the truth of those words, and they are true ….
I still want to get back under the covers.
I don’t have any great revelations. Just some gut knowledge. Verified through the Word. The deep down soul twisting heart knowing that I do not have a High Priest who is unable to sympathize with my weakness, but one who in every respect has been tempted as I am, yet without sin. Let me then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that I may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need. (adapted from Hebrews 4:15-16)
Somewhere during those blood soaked, pain soaked, crazed-thirst filled, hours on a cross, Christ took on my pain. My sin. My wounds. He obeyed. I did not. He paid. And I have confidence, the fresh truth of the gospel, a balm for my wounded heart.
~M.
P.S. They do love each other …..
Sigh! That daily pain over what could have been…and his strength in our weakness! Praying for you tonight! Realized in prayers about my own sin and daily insufficiency. (the kind of insufficiency that leaves the nurse frustrated and unsure of what to do next with kids running wild and fighting and…me feeling the same way, only needing to somehow pull my groggy head out of this mess and get all of our acts together – so that the nurse might actually want to show up tomorrow.)
In praying about this mess, the thought came to me – I have to stop looking down at my numerous flaws. I’ve got to begin to focus on those things that I do better, and learn how to bless my family with them…with the gifts he’s already given. I’ve got to stop windowshopping and pull out the clothes that are already in my closet. Maybe these thoughts are delirium or maybe they are a gift… Love you!