Supernature vs. Insanity

Some days I linger too near insanity. And some days I really do see more supernatural grace at work to ease my load. I believe the Bible states clearly enough... I have no supernature in myself. And I don't think I've gone fully insane (yet.) I'm an ordinary mom. Regularly sinning. Regularly repenting and pleading for grace and wisdom to come. I really want to be holy as he who called me, he who has given me his Spirit, is holy.

This past weekend was full of sorrow- most especially for our family as they grieve through a burial service for our baby niece and in me there was also sorrow that as I care for the most precious kids in the world, the greatest little treasures in my life, my mothering is so marred by sin.

I got to talk to my man on skype and he reminded me of how well our last round of potty training went. For some unknown reason, the Lord graced me with a really easy heart about it... I knew I would be serving our girl. I knew I would be scrubbing up poopy floors and undies and wiping and waiting ages for her to put her feet in her undies, again and another again. It honestly went worlds smoother than it could have.

But this weekend did not. I was tired, drained, sad, missing family, and busy trying to prepare for and host a gathering to honor my niece who was being buried. I was impatient with my kids who were being.... kids.

I agreed to a fantastically sweet offer to stay at some friend's of ours home for a night so Isaiah could get some male attention from the daddy of the home and I could get some friendship conversation with the mommy. The pillow fight that night was exactly what he needed... got out my boy's yearning energy and our girl even threw her own effort in and they were perfectly tired by the end. But somehow not tired for sleep.

I was nursing our 11 month old for probably the eigth time that day- like I did when he was 3 months old- because he's been struggling with diarrhea since before Daddy left for the states. The big kids were quiet before I brought him into our shared quarters but the quiet only lasted a minute before rounds #2-22 of energy were miraculously discovered still within them.

I was really angry by the end of the evening. I yelled (and yelled). I really wanted them to let our poor baby boy sleep. I really wanted to call their daddy as it was morning there.... minutes before the burial service. I really wanted Marian to stop inviting electricity into her bones as she dangled her limbs on the outlets near her bed. I wanted them to obey and be respectful- don't they know I love them and am telling them these things for their good?  But for all this I could do nothing to enforce my words, but just lay there watching the squealing disrespect mount and hear my own repeated instructions drone on and on, unheeded, as I nursed our little one and cried.

Heated, I left the room after a spectacular finale: explaining how angry I was that they were not letting John sleep. "I'm too angry to spank you but I'm so angry I'm going to spank the bed." And I did. And they were wide eyed at my sinful show.

(I find myself wondering now if this is some of why our One God is three..... so he could kill himself to pay the price for our sin.  He himself took the punishment for our sin.  The bed can do nothing.)

My neighbor downstairs came up at 5:50 am a few days ago to tell me my baby was crying. Maybe I didn't realize it? Are you kidding me?

Mix with these things all the symptoms of classic detox, not in an 19 year-old druggie, but in our 2.75 year-old darling. She wants her "sleep toy." We'll work on her sucking habit through the night later, but for now we're just trying to lessen her ties during daylight.

But I don't know the local word for "addiction" or "withdrawl" to explain to my neighbors the incredible screaming they hear once or twice a day when she remembers this mangled bunny head that she loves. I'm sure they've got some wild imaginations for what would possibly produce such a protest. I tried some gestures and explained "like a smoker wants a cigarette..." for her preschool teacher this morning. I only got a little laugh and a regretful shaking head... Apparently she hasn't ever seen a child as orally crazed as our girl. Lord, have mercy.

Perhaps this feels so tough for me right now because I have judged other moms in the past and now I feel my own judgement (rightfully) falling back on me. Oh that I would never judge! Or perhaps I feel so little understanding because so many around us just let their kids do/ say/ eat/ wear whatever the sweethearts want. But I'm really not willing for my girl to plug herself in, however much she wants to do it. (For some issues, we're delighted to let them have their say, of course.) It's an uphill battle.

I think this job is so great (and it is....for me, the Greatest Job, funnest, best joy in the world) perhaps because it is so hard. At least it couldn't be so great if it wasn't so hard. Do great things ever come easy? Still, there is a time to simply behold the mountain you are climbing and respect it as a difficult one.  That is what I intend with this post. I really don't want to complain but just call this what it is..... darn hard work, completely worth the sweat and tears, humbling, teary-eyed, deeply delighting, measurelessly significant, good work. And I know the mountain that the Lord has assigned me is nowhere near as difficult to climb as the journey of parenthood that begins with the death of your child, like my champion brother and sister-in-law. Or like an amazing family whose blog I saw recommended today.... raising 4 kids, one with severe disabilities.

I'm reading Ginger Plowman's masterpiece "Don't Make Me Count to Three!" The title, I think, is really dumb (she argues in the first lines of the book for that line being no good at all... so how did it take over as the title?). The book, however, is genius. Clearly wisdom gifted from God, full of the Word, genius material. And I want all I can get of what she's writing about into my head and heart.

But ultimately it's not in the next, newest parenting tips that my hope is found. Ginger's book points us to the Word as the authority that corrects and trains and instructs our kids. And it is the Hope for my heart too.

What my man reminded me of is exactly the thing I needed to remember. The Lord can do this. In fact, He has done this.... right here in our little home, with these three crazy kids and this sinner of a mom. If we could make it through that last batch of poop-everywhere potty training, we can make it through another dose* of disobedience and follow it with self-controlled, God-pleasing discipline to bless our kids as they learn to live to delight in and honor God. God's grace is sufficient to lead us, enable us, calm us with his peace to bless our kids in this way. I'm sure it won't look as perfect as Mrs. Plowman's little scenarios, but it will be gracious discipline for the purpose of godliness, in them and in me... *even if it's the 743rd "another dose" of the day.