Remember that place on the movie Inside Out where forgotten memories go to die? Sometimes I start blog posts and forget about them. I have a whole wasteland of partial thoughts and half stories that never made their point. Many die an unknown death. Some actually get revived in time and have life. Today I sifted through my lost thoughts and found some sweet little gems. And I actually made some revelations. About life and motherhood, because that's what I've got to work with right now.
Today, I lost my patience and used my mean voice on one of my children at bedtime. Over a misunderstanding. I wish that this were shockingly unusual. I made him cry. And I felt really bad for it. I said sorry. I gave him hugs. I held his hand for awhile and sang songs. But in the end, I was more of a distraction than a help, and so I left. He was sad, and I was sad, and I thought about how one day Jeff and I will look back and think that these days were a struggle. He has such long days, and I have such long days. Then I started digging through my old thoughts.
"Sometimes we don't see our progress until we really remember what we were like before. I teach the four year old Sunday School class in church. Ha ha! Teach. But seriously. I remember when Elias was a baby, I substituted for the teacher one week. I remember thinking that it was the longest hour of my life and I had no idea what to do with them. Well, I have built up a tolerance now."
I distinctly remember that long, long hour, teaching those four year olds. It wouldn't even phase me now. I know, because I live with them. Hours, and hours and hours of toddler time. And, I taught them in church for a few years. And I loved it!
Next, I found this:
"I am generally what is known as a laggard. You know, the very last one to jump on the bandwagon. I am also a procrastinator. Why fold that gigantic mountain of laundry that has been stacked on my couch for three days today, (Okay, I'm lying. It's more like a week. Okay, I'm lying again. Trust me, you don't even want to know) when I can easily do it tomorrow?"
Laundry used to be the bane of my existence. The thorn in my side. I always, always, ALWAYS had a giant pile of laundry to fold, and I'm talking entire couch, cushion to ceiling. Once, we slept on the couch for two weeks because I had moved the pile to the bed, and that was that. But on a side note, it broke Elias and Isaac from coming to sleep in our bed at night. They would hit the wall of laundry and give up. A win!
Not to brag, but I currently have no laundry piled up waiting to wash, and nothing but an empty laundry basket sitting on my floor. (Thank you, thank you.) I mean, the dishes aren't done, and I'm still trying to find time to clean the bathroom, but I have finally conquered that mountain. And it was a big mountain. I still have gigantic piles to fold, they just don't feel nearly as insurmountable as before.
I have been praying for literally years now for more patience. To be able to be kind when I'm tired and frustrated, and to be able to lighten up when no one is going along with the plan in my head. Especially the one where the house stays clean, or the one where they all go to bed on time and without complaint so that I can have a few selfish moments of alone time at the end of the day. You know, where I park it with a book and take a bath. Ha! I was dreaming. More like where I catch up on all of the dishes, sweep up, wipe up, clean up. Ah, me time. But the more they drag it out, the shorter goes my fuse.
Even though it feels like we are getting nowhere, these hard moments are necessary to stretch us a little more. Without the chance to work at it, we would never make progress. And maybe we are doing better than we think we are. We are just lacking in perspective, waiting to be gained in hindsight.
Once, I took my kids swimming in my neighbor's pool. At one point, Isaac lost his footing and started flailing around, flapping his arms and legs, sure he was drowning. Rather than save him, my neighbor and I stood next to him, calmly watching. After a few seconds of panic, he put his feet down and realized that he could stand up. He stood up and then laughed at himself. I love Isaac like crazy and would never intentionally leave my child to drown. I knew he could do it.
This has become one of my favorite analogies ever. We may think we are drowning, but the Lord has a better perspective. He loves us like crazy and would never leave us to drown. And looking back, like with enduring and then enjoying teaching the four year olds, and overcoming my mountainous laundry issues, we see improvement. Life is long for a reason. At least for the lucky ones. And for those whose time here is cut short, I have a feeling that they will have their opportunities to grow, also.
Laundry used to be the bane of my existence. The thorn in my side. I always, always, ALWAYS had a giant pile of laundry to fold, and I'm talking entire couch, cushion to ceiling. Once, we slept on the couch for two weeks because I had moved the pile to the bed, and that was that. But on a side note, it broke Elias and Isaac from coming to sleep in our bed at night. They would hit the wall of laundry and give up. A win!
Not to brag, but I currently have no laundry piled up waiting to wash, and nothing but an empty laundry basket sitting on my floor. (Thank you, thank you.) I mean, the dishes aren't done, and I'm still trying to find time to clean the bathroom, but I have finally conquered that mountain. And it was a big mountain. I still have gigantic piles to fold, they just don't feel nearly as insurmountable as before.
I have been praying for literally years now for more patience. To be able to be kind when I'm tired and frustrated, and to be able to lighten up when no one is going along with the plan in my head. Especially the one where the house stays clean, or the one where they all go to bed on time and without complaint so that I can have a few selfish moments of alone time at the end of the day. You know, where I park it with a book and take a bath. Ha! I was dreaming. More like where I catch up on all of the dishes, sweep up, wipe up, clean up. Ah, me time. But the more they drag it out, the shorter goes my fuse.
Even though it feels like we are getting nowhere, these hard moments are necessary to stretch us a little more. Without the chance to work at it, we would never make progress. And maybe we are doing better than we think we are. We are just lacking in perspective, waiting to be gained in hindsight.
Once, I took my kids swimming in my neighbor's pool. At one point, Isaac lost his footing and started flailing around, flapping his arms and legs, sure he was drowning. Rather than save him, my neighbor and I stood next to him, calmly watching. After a few seconds of panic, he put his feet down and realized that he could stand up. He stood up and then laughed at himself. I love Isaac like crazy and would never intentionally leave my child to drown. I knew he could do it.
This has become one of my favorite analogies ever. We may think we are drowning, but the Lord has a better perspective. He loves us like crazy and would never leave us to drown. And looking back, like with enduring and then enjoying teaching the four year olds, and overcoming my mountainous laundry issues, we see improvement. Life is long for a reason. At least for the lucky ones. And for those whose time here is cut short, I have a feeling that they will have their opportunities to grow, also.
The Lord can see what we are struggling with. He knows I've been praying for patience for years. I don't feel patient. But with each opportunity to try, maybe I'm building a little bit of endurance.
Marjorie Pay Hinckley said, “The only way to get through life is to laugh your way through it. You either have to laugh or cry. I prefer to laugh. Crying gives me a headache.” Some perspective for tomorrow.
And to finish in the words of Anne of Green Gables, put there by L.M. Montgomery, “Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it... Yet.”
Marjorie Pay Hinckley said, “The only way to get through life is to laugh your way through it. You either have to laugh or cry. I prefer to laugh. Crying gives me a headache.” Some perspective for tomorrow.
And to finish in the words of Anne of Green Gables, put there by L.M. Montgomery, “Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it... Yet.”
