Back in September or October, with the academic year newly underway, we were all a bit tired and being struck down one by one with colds. I was filled with a dual sort of dread: so early in the fall, and already we were being struck down with illness; and also, it would just have to be that particular week, when I had three rehearsals and two concerts and would be getting very little sleep.
I was trying to catch a nap alongside Molly one day, the girls having been duly instructed to stay in their rooms and play quietly during their usual quiet time. Things began to unravel, as I was awakened a few moments after dozing off to the sounds of the two older girls squabbling loudly about something insignificant.
My first hazy thought as I was jolted awake?: "I'm about ready to kill them."
Then: "Is this how God feels? When we're down here running around on earth just being wretched all the time?"
Oh wait. No. Quite the opposite, I guess.
I'm about ready to die for them.
But I really read them the riot act before quiet time! I reminded them what was expected...! I told them it was important!
Oh, you mean like the Ten Commandments? Some basic rules? Not too many but not too few? Just a doable amount of rules?
But I really condensed it to just two things. Stay in your rooms. Play quietly. Lots of freedom within that. So much freedom!
Ah, two things. Like love God and love your neighbor, for example? How's that going down there?
Oh. Right. Good point.
Well, shoot then.
So there I was, and here I am, knee deep in this weird mixture of chaos and frustration and love. Knee deep in my own sanctification. I maintain that if I hadn't had children I might have labored under the illusion that I was an OK person.
How humbling it is to realize that not only have I not loved my neighbor as myself, but I have not even loved my own children as well as I ought.
|She doesn't always sleep, but when she does, she's awfully cute.|