So Monday comes around again, and this time wearing gray. Gray skies, solid gray, spanning the horizons, stretched across barren gray tree trunks spreading their gray fingers against the clouds above. Slate gray roof, hanging over the black grill shimmering gray in the damp. Gray decking. Yes, we have a gray deck. It was there from before. Personally, we both would have chosen something with more true-wood coloring. But there it is, gray. Gray, gray, gray, under the gray grill and the gray roof and the gray, naked trees touching the gray, clouded sky.
It's not the cheeriest looking day.
And yet, from the barren treetops, birds are singing. Caroling. Praising. Rejoicing with joyous abandon. I fling open the kitchen window to let the joy inside, with reckless disregard for allergies or the cool air. It's only for a few minutes. I'm soaking in the sound of little created beings who do not care that the sun is covered today. Who do not care that the beautiful spring weather was halted in its tracks by an actually seasonal snap of cold air. They are not complaining. They are singing even more than ever.
And, perhaps, that is the best time to sing, in a way. When our expectations have been met, it is easy. But when they have not been met...that is the hard thanks. And that is the time when our souls need it most. Need most to be reminded of how much we have to be thankful for, and so how much reason we have to rejoice greatly.
May I remember to sing praises – if not aloud, then at least in my heart; if not singing, at least whispering thanks – all day. Even if expectations for the day are not met. Even if my grandiose plans of hand-washing all of the dishes (owing to a certain broken dishwasher) and doing several loads of laundry and tagging clothes for a consignment sale and going out to run some errands with the girls all fall by the wayside. They probably won't all be met, for it's an ambitious list. Even if it is yet another day of snuffly noses needing wiping and little souls hungry for cuddles and book-reading and just sitting still and being together. Some days need to be like that. And it is okay if my house looks like a warzone temporarily because my children needed some extra doses of loving to chase the sniffles away.
I will probably have trouble remembering this when I am in the middle of trying to do laundry and have my little 1-year-old tugging on my pants leg, blowing bubbles from her poor little nose and sobbing “Maaaaaa! Maaaaaa!” and rather than getting frustrated...to remember how grateful I am and how good it is that I have a little one there to want me and need me. It's good to be wanted. It's good to be needed. It also gets tiring – especially when I feel so tired most of the time anyway. But I think of Jesus, so tired that He fell asleep in a ship tossed by raging seas. And he did not rebuke the disciples or get angry or roll His eyes when they woke Him, frightened, needy. He rose and drove their fears away – attended to their needs – didn't tell them to leave Him alone because He needed some Me Time. He did not rebuke the multitudes who followed Him everywhere, needing Him, never letting Him be alone. He looked on them with pity and served, and served, and served.
May I serve and serve and serve today. I had attitude trouble with the whole Being Needed Constantly thing last week. May I remember these things this week, and may this be a week of grace. At the moment things look promising. Everyone is peaceful and serene and we are having a cozy, snuggly, at-home kind of day with lots of sweet little conversations with my 2-year-old. We are talking about how God made the birds and how beautiful their songs are, and we are dressing teddy bears from Mimi in different little outfits, and we are talking about how Jesus is good all the time and wouldn't it be nice to be good all the time, like He is? My 1-year-old is sleeping surprisingly late, which promises great things for a happy day ahead for her. But it might not pan out to my expectations. What promises to be a sunshiney day may turn cloudy when you least expect it. And my response is usually to pout and whimper and complain at my unmet expectations. As if I had some right to the day turning out like I wanted it to.
I hear little whimpers coming from the back. I am needed again. Being a mommy brings so much reward, and at the same time requires so much giving, giving, giving. And yet, how can I hope to help my children learn thankfulness if I do not show it first? If I do not meet my baby's expectations, she wails. This messes up my expectations, so then I wail, too. We're really not that different. I just think I'm all grown-up and mature. And yet here I am, still struggling to learn the same lessons I am trying to teach her. I am grateful for the Lord's grace to me when I fail to learn things for the 100th time. May I show grace to my little ones when they are needy yet again, because that is what I would want from my Jesus. And that is what He gives. Grace, abundantly. Grace, even when my expectations are not met. Grace, even when a sunny sky turns cloudy.
Grace to sing.
Outside, the chorus has only continued to crescendo as I write. Rising, rising, louder and more joyful. It's a cacophony of praise. May my words and my life and my attitude today, add to the noise another note of praise. May I bring the sunshine in with my thankfulness, even if my day doesn't go as planned. Days often don't go as planned when you're a mommy, I'm learning. But every day as a mommy is such a precious gift. These children such jewels. It is good to be needed constantly. It may be hard on the days when I feel that I have nothing to give, but it is good.
The gray skies fill with little birds flitting from tree to tree, singing joy into our hearts.
“Mommy,” says my 2-year-old, “I lub boords.”
“I love them, too, sweetie,” I smile into her shining blue eyes. To her, every day is beautiful and sunshiney, because she sees everything with eyes of wonder. May I take that wonder in my heart with me today, and never lose the wonder of being a Mommy. Of being forgiven. Of being Christ's.
I have every reason in the world to sing.
Gifts today, and it's not even 10:00:
~ Bird's songs piercing the morning air with joy
~ Wonder in my eldest's eyes as she looks out the window
~ Whispers of, “I lub you, Mommy.”
~ Hugs from my youngest
~ Tottering, joyful first steps
~ Little lisping lips saying, “God made de boords.”
~ Baby giggles and kisses and hugs
May you have a blessed Monday and a grace-filled week, my friends.
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