quiet

I know, I've been a little quiet lately.  There just hasn't been a lot to share.  Unless you want to hear how hard our days have been lately, or about the discipline issues we're having.  About the anger rut two of my children seem to be stuck in.  Hard stuff.  Painful stuff.  And I haven't always handled it with the love and patience I like to think I have. 

It has been especially hard over the last 5 days because Andy has been gone from early morning until after dinner.  He was helping my brother and sister-in-law put on a huge plant sale (more on that later).  It's a busy weekend as he works 12 hour days alongside them.  Which means I've been on my own with the kids a lot....even though I've been at my wit's end with them. 

I've spent a lot of time praying, asking begging God to renew me, give me compassion and patience even when I'm exhausted.  It felt like He wasn't answering.  I felt powerless to pull us out of this ickiness.  Until late this morning, that is. 

I was talking with the kids about our last few days.  We were gathered in a circle on the living room floor, just hanging out, and I John 1:9 came to mind.  "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness."  Oh, how I needed that reminder.  My kids, too.  We talked, we prayed together, we confessed our sins to God and each other.  And then we started over. 

Has it been happy-go-lucky, tulips and daffodils since then?  No way.  One child has been throwing up every half hour.  Another spent 20 minutes sobbing in my arms, grieving part of her adoption journey, and another is as mischevious as ever (although with a little more softness in his eyes).  But we're hanging in here.  God is giving me a little more of that elusive patience I've been longing for.  He's allowed me to see my children with fresh eyes, with a persevering love that will take what's given, and work with it.  I am so, so grateful. 

I've gotta go now.  I need to unpack that suitcase that I'd imagined in my mind.  And cancel the week-long stay at a plush resort that I dreamed up.  I'm going to stay right here, trusting that I can do this the rest of today.  And maybe tomorrow.  One crazy, painful, chaotic hour at  a time.