grace for today

I went to bed last night determined that this would be the week I would begin waking up with an alarm clock before the little mister, that I would daily exercise and get those abs back into shape (or at least, into a new shape; not sure they’ll ever go “back”…), and that I would spend a few moments alone in thought and prayer.

Except that I fell asleep while nursing the baby and forgot to set the alarm, so I woke with his wiggling at 7:30. (No, he doesn’t sleep straight through to 7:30. I’m just skipping over the unnecessary details of midnight feedings.) No problem, I thought. I’ll just nurse him, lay him back down, and get on with my plan.

Except he wouldn’t go back to sleep. No sirree. So at 8:30, I brought him to daddy, cooing happily, so I could shower. After that, I could put him to sleep, exercise, etc.

You can guess how the morning went. By the time I realized he wasn’t going to cooperate with my new plan, the exhaustion that I had failed to calculate was turning me into a fuzzy, weepy zombie.

So here I sit, unexercised, no alone thoughts, with a baby napping on my chest. And this, I realize, is my daily bread. As much as I’d like to be a size 4 again, and as much as I’d enjoy a few minutes to journal here and there, I’d much rather be faithful to do my Father’s will for each day. And I figure, I might as well learn to be content with sacrificing for my children while there’s only one — because I think it’s going to get harder before it gets easier!

This idea that the Lord knows my needs and is caring for me has ministered to me so much since my first week with Jameson. I had no idea that recovery from delivering my baby would be so incredibly long and difficult. I knew about the waking up in the middle of the night part. I didn’t really know about the body feeling like I’d been run over by a truck or pummeled by a prize fighter. Didn’t know I’d be so tired I could fall asleep in the middle of a conversation. Or that walking to the bathroom would require that I stop and rest two or three times on the way. I remember one night, as I nursed Jameson, praying in tears and telling the Lord that I really needed to sleep for a long time — please, just make the baby sleep? And the Holy Spirit spoke and strengthened my heart in such a real way: I know what you need. If you only get 5 hours of broken sleep, then I promise, I’ll help you through tomorrow.

I don’t know how many times I’ve heard that whispered since then, or how many times I’ve rested in that thought. Sleep, to-do lists, devotions, Christmas shopping, meal planning, church ministry — it’s so much easier to just do my best and trust that He’ll help me with each day. He knows the season I’m in much better than I do, and when my every plan goes awry (and I mean every plan!), He provides the grace to deal with the outcome. And most of the time, I find that He gives me 5 minutes here and there to do what I need to do. It’s not the way I used to live — with each day planned to the minute — but you know what? It works. It works just fine.

And just in case I ever need to be reminded of His grace for my season, I’m going to hold onto this article for future reference.

“He will . . . gently lead those who are with young.” — isaiah 40

thankful.

I’m so glad for the celebration we’ll have tomorrow. There are so many things on any given day that I really, truly am grateful for — but I just forget. On some days, I might even make you think (shame on me) that my life is only worthy of complaint. That is a sad, pathetic way to live, and so I’m thankful for Honest Abe, who put “Thanksgiving” in my daily planner once a year. And I’m thankful for Bradford and company, who showed by example that an attitude of gratitude is just that — an attitude. You can either complain that all you’ve got is corn, or you can thank God that you’ve survived on corn.

And for what it’s worth, I think this day is worth decorating for, preparing for, and not rushing into Christmas for. Hooray for Mayflowers and freedom, for food and family, and for God and His guidance.

baby mozart?

You know you’ve fallen into the “my kid is the cutest and smartest ever” trap when you say with sincere amazement, “Honey, look! He’s already learned how to try to eat his own sweater!”

A thought: If my kid really is so genius, wouldn’t he be trying to eat something other than a sweater? Just a thought.

two

Tonight I lay him down, the peace of sleep angelic on his little face, and I think once again,

“I don’t wanna close my eyes, I don’t wanna fall asleep ’cause I’ll miss you baby, and I don’t want to miss a thing…”

Two months old — two months and one hour.

Tomorrow when we wake, it will be the start of his third month.

The days are slipping by. Can I just hold this minute for one second longer? ‘Cause I’ll never have it again.

parent training

Today I read this — “instant, thorough, and cheerful,” a la 1888!

Such talk challenges me, that’s for sure, because I know that before beginning child discipline, there first must come parent discipline. An instructor instructs in what they already know, and so the image of what I would like my children to be — diligent, obedient, responsible, prudent, kind, joyful, respectful, deferent (on and on it goes!) — is a measuring stick for my own behavior.

Ouch.

The Lord has His work cut out for Him!

(Which reminds me: My mom used to tell us, when we would complain that grown-ups didn’t have to get spankings, that God does spank grown-ups — “and trust me, you’d rather have me spank you right now than be a grown-up getting spanked by God.” How true, how true!)

monday.

Mondays have a tendancy to put me in a frenzy. I wake up and suddenly realize that the weekend left me with a huge pile of laundry, dishes on the counter, a shortage of food, a house that needs to be cleaned again, and I’m more exhausted than I am rested. So, with that in mind, I went to bed last night purposing to take things in stride.

So, when the morning was a wash, I didn’t get out of the shower until 2:00, and then just when I was thinking I’d finally get to the grocery store, my husband began throwing-up and the baby woke up screaming, I couldn’t complain that my day wasn’t going as planned. Because, actually, I was doing exactly what I’d planned: taking whatever the day brought in stride.

Ahh. It’s nice to not get so worked up. I need to do this more often!

bronwynThis little girl is such a doll. She is completed enthralled with Jameson and defies all theories regarding the attention span of a sanguine 2-year-old by gazing at him for as long as I do! Each time she sees him bundled in his carseat, she tugs on his hat and looking at me with her sparkly eyes, gushes, “I just luff (love) his bwack hair!” And she had Bri and me in stitches when last week, as she gazed at him adoringly, she suddenly said to me, “Don’t you just luff his wittle hands?”

Yes, Bronwyn, I do.

And I don’t care what anyone says, there is nothing cuter than a baby in a pilot cap.