The calm after the storm

I sit here under beautiful bright Colorado sun streaming through the window and I watch a pint sized little girl penguin-waddle around the room trying her hardest to stuff a Mardi Gras necklace into the toe of my houseshoe.

This is the calm after the morning storm.

This morning feelings of inadequacy swept over me and drowned my joy. There was screaming there was fighting, there was hitting, there was whining. One couldn't walk, one couldn't suck their thumb because of an owie, one didn't like the breakfast I made, one was unkind, one was talking back, one was disrespectful, one was arguing, all were complaining...before 8 am. Do you think it's possible for Teradactyl screams from baby girl lungs to cause permanent brain damage? I think so. It feels like it. I have so much to teach three small hearts about love and patience and self denial and servanthood and self control and kindness yet I am absolutely desperate to learn these lessons myself.
And in my flesh I fought to like my kids. I battled my own will trying to be patient and kind and loving in discipline. And I lost it. I was aching to regain Christlike love and couldn't. But Jesus knew I would need reprieve - I was able to send the worst offender downstairs to his grandaddy so that I could catch a breath. And in the *silence* (read: two kids left behind =the volcano is erupting at a slightly slower rate) the Lord gently reminded me that these three littles encompass a grand ministry. I often think that I've been given remarkably more than I can handle. In my desperation and brokenness I am forced to rely on God whose yoke is easy and burden is light. I crumble under the burden of my own strength, but there is freedom, great freedom, in His strength. His grace and mercy abound, and they ARE new every morning, every moment. And when I approach my kids in repentance I get to remind them of the One who loves them more than I ever could hope to. And This One will be perfectly patient and kind and loving and He IS adequate for them. And He whispers to my heart that my ministry has His stamp of approval. Wiping noses and rubbing backs late into the night, and bandaging owies, and breaking up brotherly arguments, and offering grace, and being patient and speaking kindly and cuddling and hugging and kissing and LOVING are all ways that I serve the Lord and minister to my small congregation of three and point them to the Gospel. On the best days I fall short but His grand power is made perfect in my weakness. Oh thank you for my weakness.

This afternoon I cuddled a little boy in a narrow twin bed. I scratched his back and told him how happy I am to be his mommy. I promised him that I wanted this mommy job forever and ever, then we sealed it with a kiss. I watched his heavy eyelids slowly close and I witnessed Jesus catch his sleep and sustain his breathing. And I whispered in his ear the greatest Truth of all. That he is loved with a never stopping, never giving up, never ending love from his Father. And I pray and hope that he can catch even a small glimpse of that from his earthly mommy and daddy.