These Holy Days

I was pulling stems off of grapes so my one year old wouldn’t choke on them today. Even though my eye was twinging and I was daydreaming about that hot shower that’s been absent for two days, it felt like love.

These days won’t be wasted, I keep promising myself that. Even on the days where I feel like I am utterly failing my children. Even on the days where there is so much constant noise and my toddler is holding my face as I cry in his hands that are begging for more of something, always. Even when I’m sure my insides might explode by just how defeated and depleted I feel.

A friend and I were walking our littles through the snow and I felt such a weight lift from my chest. Maybe it was my lungs finally catching their breath, cold and crisp. Maybe it was simply the act of gathering together, letting my toddler run around in explosive and untouched joy. Or possibly I just paused enough to see the glorious paradox I’m caught in every day…

How tiny I am– in the midst of one hundred trees and a blanket of snow and the sound of twigs breaking on a ground, and in a world, where I am daily breaking but always seen — sometimes beautifully, sometimes painfully, sometimes simply — for the day I’m promised whole. 

Because He chose the breaking for me. 

Because I choose the breaking for Him. 

So, as I open the fridge to pull out the food to cut up into bite-sized pieces that will most certainly end up on the floor because they want something different…

As I wipe the poop and fold the diaper and close those tabs yet another time…

When I break up the pinching and the pulling and the knocking down…

In the books that I read, in reading them slow, I’ll hang on the interruptions and questions asked…

In the dishes that don’t end, and the laundry I’m re-re-washing and the floor that I’m sweeping for the fourth time in a day…

As I look in the mirror, at the things that hang low and differently, I’ll see the life that came through the change…

In the patterns of cries and the habits we’re forming and the nurture we’re teaching and the patience we’re growing…

In the disruptions and surprises and the lacking of routine…

In the ruined dates and the unappreciated planning and the unseen love poured out…

I’ll press and press and press into holy.

These days are sacred.

In the getting out of bed, in the rise and shine of another nonstop day,

I am choosing the presence of Christ for my children.

God is at work in my mothering,

He’s at work in me,

He is spilling into them, day by day, filling them up towards whole.

I might feel undone. There will be  days I dread the little things, and other times I’ll glimpse the miracles. Jesus was surely exhausted, and undoubtedly faced feelings of undone during his ministry on earth.

But He didn’t get high off of happiness, he steadfast aimed higher towards Holy.

So holy it is.

 

 

 

 

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