Thank you so much to all of you who have been praying for all of us as we went through Joseph's big day yesterday! I can't begin to express how much that means to us! I'll try to keep this short, but I wanted to let you know that the day went very well and Joseph is returning to normal...even with a patch over his eye. Here are some of the highlights:
Fasting. This was a big one for me, you guys must've prayed hard on this one! He woke up himself 10 minutes before I was going to wake him so that he would be done eating by 2:30 am. I don't usually give him a bottle after nursing in the middle of the night, but I did this time to make sure his stomach was plenty full. I got nervous when the bottle seemed to wake him up and he kept acting like he wanted to nurse again at 2:45. But he thankfully took a pacifier and went back to sleep in my arms. We decided not to wake him again, even though he could've had Pedialite before 4:30am, because I wasn't sure he'd like the Pedialite and I didn't want him awake and mad. It turned out well. He slept until we left at 5:30 and made most of the trip to Children's without crying. As soon as we were 5 minutes out, he started screaming, but that only lasted until Daddy could rescue him in the parking garage. Daddy kept him quiet and mostly asleep on his shoulder. He made it through the 3 rounds of eye drops before they took him back to surgery without much of a fuss, even to the surprise of the nurse giving the drops. At 7:30 they took him back for surgery, so all in all, he spent 5 minutes crying in the 5 hours of fasting. I'd say that was a success!
Hospital Staff. Can I just say we had the best surgery recovery nurse ever! Actually, my sweet friend, Cheryl, sometimes works surgery recovery and was so very kind to schedule herself that morning to be Joseph's recovery nurse. I really loved everyone who worked with us, all very competent and had great personalities...it was very reassuring. But the most emotional part for me was going back to recovery and hearing my baby cry a very distressing cry. I know coming out of anesthesia is hard, but it was very comforting for me to have Cheryl there as we worked with him and eventually gave him some meds to calm him down. This obviously was the first time seeing him all patched up...just a little overwhelming all around. Thank you, Cheryl. You have crowns in heaven for all you do for the Rauchs!
Discharged that day. This was huge. There were so many things that could've kept us there overnight because he was right on the bubble with being so young that in most scenarios they would've kept him. But everything went so well that we went home by early afternoon. Taking a hot bath and crawling into my own bed to nap with Joseph never felt so good!
Sleepiness vs. Fussiness. They warned that the first 24 hours he would either be sleepy or fussy. When he did stir, he was definitely uncomfortable and fussy, but thankfully he was very sleepy most of the day.
Back home. My mom was here. Need I say more? It was such a relief just having someone here with my kids so I didn't have to shuffle them around. Not only that, I came home to LEFSE (very big deal for me!), carpet stains cleaned, laundry washed and folded, kids happy, etc. It was great having her today for the post op check and after since I have found myself a little worn down today and a little sick. I walked in the door and up to my room to sleep the rest of the day. When I woke up, dinner was waiting...thank you, Mom!
Post Op Check. Joseph saw three doctors today, all were very pleased with how his eye looked. We came home with drops, salve, and very yucky medicine that is supposed to upset his stomach. Fun. He needs to wear his eye shield for the next two weeks until he is fitted for his contact. He goes back both next week and the following week, then we should getting the schedule and gear he is to be on for the next several months to a couple of years.
Today, Joseph seems back to himself. I can't tell you how sweet it was to see him open his good eye this morning and give me a little smile! Even when he cries, it isn't the distressed cries of yesterday, and that is reassuring. The kids, some of whom were pretty disturbed by his eye guard, are getting used to it and have bounced back to normal with Joseph as well.
So again, thank you, thank you, thank you! We feel very blessed and very loved, so much to be thankful for on this Thanksgiving week!
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Late Night Thoughts: Another Baby's Blindness Helps Me to See
Quick Note: If you want to skip my late night processing and jump to how you can pray for us for Joseph's upcoming surgery, scroll down to the last paragraph or two!
While this past month I have been doing much better with reigning in my thoughts and emotions about Joseph's surgery this Monday and all that is to follow, I'm slipping a little these past several nights. I can't sleep. Nights are tricky to reign in those fears and what if's, and I find myself after 2:30 in the morning still awake. So I guess I'll type. I'll go back through these past few weeks and hopefully get back to the truth I do know, the perspective I have been given to help me leave my fears of the unknown to the One who does know. What does that Casting Crowns song say, the one that I love so much? "You're already there." Yes, that's the one. He's already there. Lord, please help me find rest in that tonight.
So Joseph had his one-month check-up almost two weeks ago. He's healthy, he's growing. He's going to be tall, Dr. Ortiz says, quite possibly my tallest one, she says. He is growing in height, he is growing in weight. Oh yeah, and the cataract is growing, too. Bummer. And so the answer is still the same, and surgery is now just hours away. But his one-month check was different from the visit before--the "diagnosis" visit. My emotions were different in handling the news. While my baby may still be blind in his left eye, I had begun to see. So tonight, I'm taking myself back to find the "big picture" again, so I can remember what I have been feeling so many days of this waiting time...that we are blessed, that while my little guy is physically blind in one eye there are many worse things than that, that if the Lord hasn't removed this issue it's because He has something good and better in walking with us through it.
When the doctor told us while we were in the hospital having just delivered Joseph that she saw something she wanted to check further in the office, I really didn't think much of it. It wasn't until we went to the pediatrician's office a couple of days later, then immediately to Children's Hospital right after, that I understood that there really was a problem. My baby was blind in one of his eyes, and there really wasn't a quick fix. I was very overwhelmed that day, buried in my post partum emotions over all of it. But something struck me at Children's that I wasn't able to process until later. This was the first time I had been to Children's Hospital with one of my children by appointment. Every other time we have gone through the emergency room. A couple of times, those were pretty dramatic events with the whole nine yards--ambulance rides, life and death drama, trauma teams trying to set IV's. But this was different. This time I had to sit in a waiting room with other parents and other children. These were children who had long term issues that were more than a broken arm or a high fever. I glanced up, but I couldn't look at them. I was so overwhelmed with everything that I knew my heart would break over and over if I looked into the face of the little girl who was fully blind, or the children with other chronic issues--needing their eyes dealt with as just one of their struggles. I was reminded of a high school cheerleading friend I had just connected with at my class reunion where we just scratched the surface of her little guy's scary heart issues. I thought back to friends we had sat with years ago in this same hospital as their one-year-old battled (and won!) a horrible childhood cancer. Yep, Joseph was blind in one eye. Blind in one eye. That was it...a fluke thing, she said. And while my grief that day seemed so big, I began to feel so small. Some parents, in fact, most in that place on that day, have to shoulder so much more. And so walking out to the parking garage, my heart broke--for us--for them. I headed back to our sweet little (okay, big) family in our comfortable house where my mom was visiting and ready with a warm meal. And I couldn't stop thinking about the parents who were still there, agonizing over their sick children, sleeping countless nights in a bedside chair and eating cafeteria food for days, just hoping that everything would be okay.
So that should be it, right? The end of my needing perspective? That was definitely worse than what little Joseph will have to deal with the next couple of years. But no. That wasn't it. My sister decided to call from the other side of the world. She wanted to pray for us, encourage us, grieve with us. She told me that she had been thinking a lot about the story I shared earlier of the blind man because she was getting to know a family in her part of the world that had an 11-month old girl who was totally blind. She was praying for both Joseph and this baby girl, asking for a miracle. So we talked some more, Joseph's care, Joseph's patching, Joseph's baby contact, Joseph's surgeries. Oh, and by the way, sweet sister, that baby girl you mentioned, the one who is blind? Why? And does she have medical care? (after remembering that my sister serves the poorest of the poor where those poor have no rights, let alone decent medical care) Well, she sees a doctor, she said. But there is no diagnosis. And the blindness is just one issue. She can't crawl, she can't lift her head, she might be deaf. She offered to send me a picture. Yes, I said, I want to see her, I want to pray for her. And so, my heart broke again.
While this past month I have been doing much better with reigning in my thoughts and emotions about Joseph's surgery this Monday and all that is to follow, I'm slipping a little these past several nights. I can't sleep. Nights are tricky to reign in those fears and what if's, and I find myself after 2:30 in the morning still awake. So I guess I'll type. I'll go back through these past few weeks and hopefully get back to the truth I do know, the perspective I have been given to help me leave my fears of the unknown to the One who does know. What does that Casting Crowns song say, the one that I love so much? "You're already there." Yes, that's the one. He's already there. Lord, please help me find rest in that tonight.
So Joseph had his one-month check-up almost two weeks ago. He's healthy, he's growing. He's going to be tall, Dr. Ortiz says, quite possibly my tallest one, she says. He is growing in height, he is growing in weight. Oh yeah, and the cataract is growing, too. Bummer. And so the answer is still the same, and surgery is now just hours away. But his one-month check was different from the visit before--the "diagnosis" visit. My emotions were different in handling the news. While my baby may still be blind in his left eye, I had begun to see. So tonight, I'm taking myself back to find the "big picture" again, so I can remember what I have been feeling so many days of this waiting time...that we are blessed, that while my little guy is physically blind in one eye there are many worse things than that, that if the Lord hasn't removed this issue it's because He has something good and better in walking with us through it.
When the doctor told us while we were in the hospital having just delivered Joseph that she saw something she wanted to check further in the office, I really didn't think much of it. It wasn't until we went to the pediatrician's office a couple of days later, then immediately to Children's Hospital right after, that I understood that there really was a problem. My baby was blind in one of his eyes, and there really wasn't a quick fix. I was very overwhelmed that day, buried in my post partum emotions over all of it. But something struck me at Children's that I wasn't able to process until later. This was the first time I had been to Children's Hospital with one of my children by appointment. Every other time we have gone through the emergency room. A couple of times, those were pretty dramatic events with the whole nine yards--ambulance rides, life and death drama, trauma teams trying to set IV's. But this was different. This time I had to sit in a waiting room with other parents and other children. These were children who had long term issues that were more than a broken arm or a high fever. I glanced up, but I couldn't look at them. I was so overwhelmed with everything that I knew my heart would break over and over if I looked into the face of the little girl who was fully blind, or the children with other chronic issues--needing their eyes dealt with as just one of their struggles. I was reminded of a high school cheerleading friend I had just connected with at my class reunion where we just scratched the surface of her little guy's scary heart issues. I thought back to friends we had sat with years ago in this same hospital as their one-year-old battled (and won!) a horrible childhood cancer. Yep, Joseph was blind in one eye. Blind in one eye. That was it...a fluke thing, she said. And while my grief that day seemed so big, I began to feel so small. Some parents, in fact, most in that place on that day, have to shoulder so much more. And so walking out to the parking garage, my heart broke--for us--for them. I headed back to our sweet little (okay, big) family in our comfortable house where my mom was visiting and ready with a warm meal. And I couldn't stop thinking about the parents who were still there, agonizing over their sick children, sleeping countless nights in a bedside chair and eating cafeteria food for days, just hoping that everything would be okay.
So that should be it, right? The end of my needing perspective? That was definitely worse than what little Joseph will have to deal with the next couple of years. But no. That wasn't it. My sister decided to call from the other side of the world. She wanted to pray for us, encourage us, grieve with us. She told me that she had been thinking a lot about the story I shared earlier of the blind man because she was getting to know a family in her part of the world that had an 11-month old girl who was totally blind. She was praying for both Joseph and this baby girl, asking for a miracle. So we talked some more, Joseph's care, Joseph's patching, Joseph's baby contact, Joseph's surgeries. Oh, and by the way, sweet sister, that baby girl you mentioned, the one who is blind? Why? And does she have medical care? (after remembering that my sister serves the poorest of the poor where those poor have no rights, let alone decent medical care) Well, she sees a doctor, she said. But there is no diagnosis. And the blindness is just one issue. She can't crawl, she can't lift her head, she might be deaf. She offered to send me a picture. Yes, I said, I want to see her, I want to pray for her. And so, my heart broke again.
The next week, I couldn't stop thinking about this baby. She really doesn't have good care. She was born into a poor family. There isn't medical insurance. She can't sign up for Medicaid. In fact, because she's a girl in a poor family in an area that doesn't have the same standards or values for care as we do in our country, it can be pretty overwhelming to think about what her future holds. Joseph's obstacles don't even hold a candle to what this sweet little girl has gone through or will continue to go through. While surgeries and infant eye contacts seem a bit daunting to me, at least we have surgeries and infant eye contacts!
But then there was more. My sister sent me a picture of this precious baby's sisters. Healthy. Beautiful. But you see, their world is blind to them, to their value. And I realized that physical blindness isn't nearly as tragic as growing up in a place that tells you because you are a girl and because you are poor you really have no value, and in fact, are a cost and a detriment to society. It is what they are told from the time they are little and it is what they soon believe about themselves. And while I wish I could say it was limited to this little family, it's not. My sister works in just one of many areas where whole societies and cultures live this out. I once ask my sister what were the womens' reactions in her part of the world on some highly publicized rapes, in areas not unlike hers, that I had read about in the news. Her close friend there, when asked about it, told my sister while shaking her head, "It's no big deal, it's no big deal. It happens all the time."
What??? What do you mean it's no big deal? It is a HUGE deal. It is a HUGE deal that they are not valued and believe that they hold little or no value. It is a HUGE deal that they do not know that they are made in God's image by God Himself and therefore are of great value to Him. It's evil that they can be so violated, and heart-wrenching that they honestly think that that's a normal part of life. No, Joseph's blindness in his one eye is nothing compared to that. And so I realize my baby's blindness isn't the tragic blindness of the heart, of the soul...and I grieve more for this little girl oceans away--and all of her sisters as well. Oh, love them well, sweet sister. Help them to see that they are valuable in a place where everything screams that they are not. And then I'm there. I'm in a place where I think I need to be. A place where I can see past myself and yes, dare I say it as a mother, where I can even see past my children and my concerns for them. And I am reminded, convicted, compelled to pray for those who need so much more than an excellent surgical team and top-rated children's hospital. They need love. They need hope. And if there's one thing I know I will give my son over and over again, whether he gains sight in his left eye or not, is LOVE and the message of HOPE. And I pray that this little boy of mine will grow up to be a man who shares that same LOVE and HOPE to everyone around him, even if he looks like a pirate wearing a patch over his eye while doing it! :-)
And Monday? Well, I'd love prayers for that. You can pray for Joseph, for the surgery to be successful, for the doctors, nurses and staff and all that surrounds it. Other than the big obvious stuff, I'm most stressed about the time of fasting before surgery. That will be tough if my infant decides he's hungry, which seems to be all the time! You can pray for my mom as she will be with my kids back home. I would love it if each of my children would show their delightful, helpful side while she is here. And our stamina and attitudes, I know both will be tested these next few days. I pray that we will be gracious with each other and with ourselves. And one final request, but a big one--for Baby Zoe (not her name, but we'll go with it for security purposes). She's the little girl in this post. You can pray not only for her, but also for her sisters, her family and community. In fact, I would love it if each time we thought of Joseph and prayed for him, we would pray for her as well.
Again, thanks for hanging with me. Someday soon I'll post something light-hearted and funny. We really can laugh over here, I promise. :-)
Monday, November 11, 2013
Processing Through My Day
Here I go again. I sit down to type some thoughts and soon get interrupted what seems like a million times, set the computer down, then never get back to finish the draft. I'm not sure this post will be any different. Today has been a struggle. Yes, and it's Monday. Maybe it's because I'm coming off the weekend where my husband was home to hold the baby and let me take a nap that today seems extra rough. I met our math tutor at our front door at 10 this morning...in my pajamas...again. Baby Joseph turned a month old yesterday, I thought I'd at least be showered by 10 when we are a month out! My laundry is piled up, my suitcase from being gone a week ago still sits in the middle of my bedroom floor--open, spilling out and unpacked. The kids at home have been on autopilot for days, your shoes would stick to my kitchen floor if you came for a visit, and I reach a crisis point when it's time to go pick up the oldest from high school because I still have a very fussy baby attached to my breast. Sorry if that word is inappropriate, as my daughter would say, for a blog, but it's true. I think Joseph is in a growth spurt or something because I feel like he's constantly attached and eating these past few days, leaving my chest to feel like it's been gnawed on by something other than a sweet little baby. No, he doesn't have teeth, I know. He just has a really strong grip when he cinches up with gas and gums down on me--ugh! If it's not a growth spurt, at least let me think it's one because if I think there is no end in sight I might just turn into a loon.
What I'm so frustrated about, though, is that I'm frustrated--when I'm in the middle of a season that I do treasure and want to thoroughly enjoy. I love getting the chance to encourage women in their frustrations, help them see the big picture--that housework and all that isn't getting done isn't as important as they think when they are in crazy seasons, not unlike mine. I have a friend who just adopted 3 kids to add to her 4 at home, and if you think my household is crazy, you should see hers! But its easy for me to tell her honestly that I think her letting her world go upside down and house get trashed, as well as her spending more time refereeing sibling spats than she does homeschooling or cleaning, is a beautiful testament to her caring for the things God cares about--7 very needy and very vulnerable children. And I mean it. But today, and most of the recent days quite frankly, the chaos is mine, and I'm going a little crazy. I feel like there isn't a second of the day to have alone without a little human (one I love madly and am so thankful for) hanging off me. And I'm bothered that physically I can't get to the pace I want to be at because the healing from pregnancy and delivery is taking longer this time around and throwing a few curves my way. So I'm mad that I'm mad, frustrated, impatient and selfish with what I know are some of the biggest blessings of my life. Why can't I find the big perspective quickly and be encouraged myself? Again...ugh!
So two verses have begun to play over and over in my mind today. I need to get them into my heart.
One is a verse I heard on the radio a few years ago in reference to childbearing, which had caught me off guard because I hadn't considered it in that context.
"This is my body, given for you." Luke 22:19
I hear this verse all the time when we go to celebrate communion at our church. Of course, Jesus said these words at the Last Supper, before He went to the cross and died a terrible death so that
He might take on the punishment for our sins, my sins, to offer us life. In no way does pregnancy and delivery come close to the magnitude of pain and suffering that He went through. But being willing to physically go through pain and scarring for the sake of bringing about life is no small task from our human perspective either, whether it be in pregnancy, or a soldier in battle for his country, or whatever form it takes. It's really hard in our culture, especially with the media in our faces, for me not to be painfully aware of the play-by-play of stars, royalty, and whoever our culture is fixated on as they become new moms and then read about how quickly they can take off pregnancy weight and be back in their bikinis on the beach, photo ready. I don't expect to pull that off by any shape or form. However, it's easy to become disappointed in my scars, stretch marks and post partum weight and shape, losing sight of the joy of the life that came about through my body, and yes, contributed to those things. I love that Jesus still has his scars in heaven. He isn't ashamed of them. We will see them as beautiful because of His great love and the agony He went through so that we might live. Can't I offer myself a little grace by embracing what seems ugly and feels painful as beautiful because of the gifts of the children that came out of it? Yes, I need to get there...and allow my body some extra time to heal.
And so I think of the other verse, obviously linked to the first:
"Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought with a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies." 1 Corinthians 6:19-20
Ouch. I'm sure my children wouldn't say I lived that one today! No, much of my day I spent whining inside because I just wanted my body and my emotions to have a reprieve...a break...a siesta. I really wasn't looking past my own nose to remember what Jesus has done for me and what He is asking me to do in this season, what He and only He has every right to ask. And what He's asking of me isn't exactly rocket science. In fact if it were, it would probably seem more exciting and much more impressive to write about. But what He is wanting is for me to love 7 children in the daily life of what can seem mundane. It's not hard stuff, filling sippy cups, teaching a child to read, nursing a hungry baby...but it is exhausting all the same, and probably in the end more important than I'll ever know. And so He doesn't leave me to do it on my own, as the verse says. I forgot that part today. He provides the strength for me to do it. And honestly, I'm not sure the things I had on my list for today are the things He had on His list for me today. Loving well, that is what His agenda is for all of us. Loving Him, loving others. In my case, it is loving the children He has put in my care. But as I look back, I didn't go to Him early enough today. I missed it. I didn't depend on Him or ask for His plan for my day, as well as asking for His mercy and strength to carry it out. I'm not my own. He is mine and I am His...and now as I reflect, I gladly put myself back in His care. His motive is LOVE towards me, towards my children. Even in the hard stuff, His dealings with me are out of LOVE. I know that to be true. And because of that, I can have a crappy day, just like today. A day where I do mess it up, a day when I forget to count my blessings and instead whine about my woes. It's not right, it needs to be repented of. But thankfully, He knows my sins, my weaknesses, my exhaustion--and loves me anyway. He has already provided a way for me from before time, and has mercy on me in the evening, even when I have made a mess of my emotions and my day. And what is funny, I am at the end of my thoughts for now and realize that I have had some time after all. The baby is still sleeping, quite unlike the rest of the day. I have had time to process. And the draft is done. So am I off to go mop my floors? No. I think instead I will gladly go snuggle with my kids.
What I'm so frustrated about, though, is that I'm frustrated--when I'm in the middle of a season that I do treasure and want to thoroughly enjoy. I love getting the chance to encourage women in their frustrations, help them see the big picture--that housework and all that isn't getting done isn't as important as they think when they are in crazy seasons, not unlike mine. I have a friend who just adopted 3 kids to add to her 4 at home, and if you think my household is crazy, you should see hers! But its easy for me to tell her honestly that I think her letting her world go upside down and house get trashed, as well as her spending more time refereeing sibling spats than she does homeschooling or cleaning, is a beautiful testament to her caring for the things God cares about--7 very needy and very vulnerable children. And I mean it. But today, and most of the recent days quite frankly, the chaos is mine, and I'm going a little crazy. I feel like there isn't a second of the day to have alone without a little human (one I love madly and am so thankful for) hanging off me. And I'm bothered that physically I can't get to the pace I want to be at because the healing from pregnancy and delivery is taking longer this time around and throwing a few curves my way. So I'm mad that I'm mad, frustrated, impatient and selfish with what I know are some of the biggest blessings of my life. Why can't I find the big perspective quickly and be encouraged myself? Again...ugh!
So two verses have begun to play over and over in my mind today. I need to get them into my heart.
One is a verse I heard on the radio a few years ago in reference to childbearing, which had caught me off guard because I hadn't considered it in that context.
"This is my body, given for you." Luke 22:19
I hear this verse all the time when we go to celebrate communion at our church. Of course, Jesus said these words at the Last Supper, before He went to the cross and died a terrible death so that
He might take on the punishment for our sins, my sins, to offer us life. In no way does pregnancy and delivery come close to the magnitude of pain and suffering that He went through. But being willing to physically go through pain and scarring for the sake of bringing about life is no small task from our human perspective either, whether it be in pregnancy, or a soldier in battle for his country, or whatever form it takes. It's really hard in our culture, especially with the media in our faces, for me not to be painfully aware of the play-by-play of stars, royalty, and whoever our culture is fixated on as they become new moms and then read about how quickly they can take off pregnancy weight and be back in their bikinis on the beach, photo ready. I don't expect to pull that off by any shape or form. However, it's easy to become disappointed in my scars, stretch marks and post partum weight and shape, losing sight of the joy of the life that came about through my body, and yes, contributed to those things. I love that Jesus still has his scars in heaven. He isn't ashamed of them. We will see them as beautiful because of His great love and the agony He went through so that we might live. Can't I offer myself a little grace by embracing what seems ugly and feels painful as beautiful because of the gifts of the children that came out of it? Yes, I need to get there...and allow my body some extra time to heal.
And so I think of the other verse, obviously linked to the first:
"Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought with a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies." 1 Corinthians 6:19-20
Ouch. I'm sure my children wouldn't say I lived that one today! No, much of my day I spent whining inside because I just wanted my body and my emotions to have a reprieve...a break...a siesta. I really wasn't looking past my own nose to remember what Jesus has done for me and what He is asking me to do in this season, what He and only He has every right to ask. And what He's asking of me isn't exactly rocket science. In fact if it were, it would probably seem more exciting and much more impressive to write about. But what He is wanting is for me to love 7 children in the daily life of what can seem mundane. It's not hard stuff, filling sippy cups, teaching a child to read, nursing a hungry baby...but it is exhausting all the same, and probably in the end more important than I'll ever know. And so He doesn't leave me to do it on my own, as the verse says. I forgot that part today. He provides the strength for me to do it. And honestly, I'm not sure the things I had on my list for today are the things He had on His list for me today. Loving well, that is what His agenda is for all of us. Loving Him, loving others. In my case, it is loving the children He has put in my care. But as I look back, I didn't go to Him early enough today. I missed it. I didn't depend on Him or ask for His plan for my day, as well as asking for His mercy and strength to carry it out. I'm not my own. He is mine and I am His...and now as I reflect, I gladly put myself back in His care. His motive is LOVE towards me, towards my children. Even in the hard stuff, His dealings with me are out of LOVE. I know that to be true. And because of that, I can have a crappy day, just like today. A day where I do mess it up, a day when I forget to count my blessings and instead whine about my woes. It's not right, it needs to be repented of. But thankfully, He knows my sins, my weaknesses, my exhaustion--and loves me anyway. He has already provided a way for me from before time, and has mercy on me in the evening, even when I have made a mess of my emotions and my day. And what is funny, I am at the end of my thoughts for now and realize that I have had some time after all. The baby is still sleeping, quite unlike the rest of the day. I have had time to process. And the draft is done. So am I off to go mop my floors? No. I think instead I will gladly go snuggle with my kids.
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