Free-Write Friday {5}

I feel my voice raising and it seems I am outside my own body as I watch me yell at my kids…

I weep over spilled salsa on the freshly mopped kitchen floor and the stress and frustration of a hard week pour from my eyes…

I feel biting words leaving my mouth directed at my best friend and husband, and wonder why I chose to speak at all…

I feel like Eustache, the boy-turned-dragon, (a figment of CS Lewis’ divinely creative imagination) a disgusting creature with need for change

I yearn for the holy claws to peel off my nasty scales and make me whole again

“Then the lion said – but I don’t know if it spoke – You will have to let me undress you. I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.

“The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know – if you’ve ever picked the scab off a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away.”

“Well, he peeled the beastly stuff right off …and there it was lying on the grass…. And there was I as smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been. Then he caught hold of me – I didn’t like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I’d no skin on – and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why. I’d turned into a boy again.”

{The Voyage of the Dawn Treader}

Free-Write Friday {4}

My payment as a mother doesn’t come in a check. There’s nothing to deposit in the bank at the end of the week.

Sloppy kisses as I tuck my son into his bed. Milk-mustached smiles from a baby as he finishes nursing. Freshly picked dandelions given with the admonishment to put them in some water, so you can keep them forever

These are the moments that compensate me for long hours, constant demands, and no sick days.

A freshly-bathed baby wanting to snuggle up before bed, a sick darling who only wants mama’s care to make her feel better, a precious masterpiece of squiggles and swirls drawn especially for me.

These are things you can’t hang a price tag on.

The days are so long sometimes, the tasks so mundane. The thanks so little. But when I stop to appreciate the small joys of motherhood set before me every day, I am so thankful that God made me a mom. Truly, there is no higher calling in life.

Free-Write Friday

My hair hangs wildly askew, framing my tired face. There wasn’t time to fix it (or apply make-up) as I went through the motions of my morning. Coffee was downed, Bible was read, prayers were breathed, children were fed, diapers were changed, kids were dressed, baby was nursed, lunch was prepared…

I hear the giggles of children as they ride their pretend train (aka the couch) to some imaginary destination. I wish I was aboard. I need a vacation.

The baby is sleeping (finally) after days battling against a fever with medicine and constant snuggles.

I feel weary. I feel tired. I feel empty.

I can’t count on one hand the number of times I’ve snapped at my children today. Upset that they’re jumping on furniture, or spilling drinks, or being too loud, or waking the baby.

I’m frustrated with myself that I’ve been so frustrated with my infant’s constant cries and whines. I wish I knew better how to ease his discomfort.

In moments like this I feel the most human. My emotions are raw, my body is weary, my soul is thirsty… I know that my calling is beyond my capability.

But deep within me is a thanksgiving song– to the One who sustains me. To the One who wakes me each morning with life and breath and being. To the One who holds my children more tightly than I do. To the One who holds me as well.