Smacked right into that wall yesterday.
You know the one you hit when you have been going too hard for too long?
Yup.
The dreaded "over commitment crash."
Reaching the end of the rope.
Rejecting, to my own detriment, the balance of work and rest that brings blessings.
And now, I'm cranky and irritable, short fused and crabby.
It's not pretty.
So I am confessing my sins to you. :)
The solution?
Praise and Thanksgiving!
It's not always possible to take things off "The List." But, when no items can be deleted, and we have to simply continue on, we can still choose Joy.
I haven't.
I have, instead, focused on "The List," the little niggling irritations of the kids, another pile of math papers to grade, the repetitive, unnecessary noises, the volume level of so many voices in the house all day, another mess in the kitchen.
Translation: I'm choosing to focus on what I don't like, instead of choosing to focus on His Face! Just typing that made me relax. He is so Lovely. I am so blessed to belong to Him. Nothing else really matters. It's just so much white noise trying to drown out the Truth and trying to get me to focus on my "rights" instead of my "responsibilities." I can talk myself into believing that I have a right to a clean, orderly house all day, perfectly behaved children, math pages with never an error, Christmas presents already taken care of. And I would be wrong. Instead, I have a responsibility to reflect my Savior in all my thoughts, words, and actions, whether tired or not, whether the stack of papers to be graded is too tall to see over or not, whether my husband needs to add something to my list or not.
Time to refocus.
Time to take my eyes off what I want. Time to focus on what He wants.
I can always choose Him.
This is my mom during the few months she lived in the Alzheimer's Unit here. We had moved my parents near us because there was no place for her where they lived. By the time this picture was taken, most of her memories were gone. She knew that she knew me, but she couldn't remember why. She couldn't remember my name.
It was such an incredible blessing that she was so happy during those months. She simply smiled or laughed the majority of the time.
It had taken several years for the disease to progress that far, though. Looking back, it's hard to know when it all began. There were odd clues sprinkled through those early years that something wasn't right. But there is one Thanksgiving that stands out vividly in my memory as the point where there was no longer any doubt. Living 300+ miles away, that realization was probably slower in coming than it would have been had we seen her more often.
But I will never forget that Thanksgiving morning when my mother, who had always prepared a wonderful feast for all of us, stood in the middle of her kitchen with a blank look on her face and said, "I don't think I've ever made dressing before." Her dressing had been one of the highlights of the yearly celebration. But suddenly, it was gone. She had no idea how to fix it any more. She had no memory of ever having made dressing.
As I sat there reeling from the shock and the grief, my precious husband, without missing a beat, said, "Doris, you don't worry about that. I will make the dressing for you." She thanked him. And I loved him so much in that moment. She went on about her list of things to do. We helped when her mind went blank. And my husband made the dressing for us. And it was delicious. He's been making it ever since.
Later that same day, things got ugly.
It was all so new to us then that we didn't understand. We didn't understand that when she became tired, the frustration level for her would reach a boiling point. She grew very irritated and vocally angry with our children. They weren't misbehaving, but it suddenly became unbearable for her to have them in the house. We were unsure what to do. But Kregg and I knew we had to leave. Right then. We gathered up the kids and explained that we were going to have to change our plans and go. I remember making it out to our car with the kids, loading them all up and sitting there in the driveway crying.
"That's NOT my mother!" I screamed through blinding tears and pain.
Kregg was my rock in that moment.
I told him we couldn't stay there another night. He found us a hotel. I knew our budget was really tight, so his gesture meant even more. His goal was to protect his family, and he would do whatever it took to accomplish that goal.
I see Kregg's faithfulness to us and in Kregg's faithfulness, I see the Faithfulness of my Father. Kregg was the Provision for me in that crisis of my soul. Through him, my Father provided for us. As painful as that day was for me, and still is when I think of it, I can't remember the pain without also remembering the Provision. My Father WILL supply ALL of my needs. Period. End of story.
And in those moments when my heart shatters in pieces over whatever new grief this life holds, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, to the marrow of my bones, that I am not and never will be alone. Ever. And the Peace that fills my spirit testifies to His Faithfulness. Even in the darkness that seems devoid of hope, His Provision is already there before I even know of my need.
I never need fear. His Faithfulness is the very nature of His Being. He cannot deny it. He cannot act contrary to it. He will always be and has forever been Faithful.
It's Friday again. You know what that means if you have frequented the Antbed for more than a week. This is where I say, "Tell me your story. Tell me of His Faithfulness. Declare it. Write it down. Add a Page to Your Heritage of Faith." Grab the button in the sidebar and add it to your linked up post, please, so that others may understand what we are doing here. Your post can be anything about how the Lord has shown Himself Faithful to you, to your family.
We want to intentionally, habitually take notes so that "the next generation will put their trust in the Lord." Begin a volume of Pages that tell of what He has done for you, through you, in you. We are a people of forgetfulness. We need reminders. And these reminders, as they accumulate, provide us with ammunition to combat the lies of the evil one, as he hatefully whispers lies in our ears that our Father doesn't move on our behalf, that He doesn't care about us. Collect your stories. Create a strong heritage of those stories for your family, for future generations.
Because of the wind, the play had to be moved indoors. No matter, it was still lots of fun. The cast is made up of my sister and brother in law's six children and our four youngest.
The Mayflower was VERY crowded.
After their long and difficult journey, the sighting of land was a cause for great rejoicing.
The women were grateful to be able to wash all the clothes on shore.
During the long, hard winter, it wasn't long before sickness began taking its toll.
The Indian, Samoset, came to the settlement and welcomed the Pilgrims to the new land.
He taught them how to plant corn the "Indian" way.
The Mayflower set sail for home, leaving the settlers to make their home in the new land.
A wedding took place between Priscilla Mullins and John Alden.
The bountiful harvest provided enough to have a great feast to which the Pilgrims invited their Indian friends.
After the meal, their were contests of strength and agility.
Around the campfire that night, Samoset told stories of his adventures.
As homeschoolers, we can't give up a chance to make a timeline. :)
Hope your Thanksgiving day has been filled with blessings!
