these days (4)

These are the days...

Of dogs sleeping by the fireplace like furry kindred spirits, exhausted from the noise and barking of little boys.

Of hosting my millionth sleepover, but it’s the little ones very first, and I get to rock their worlds with homemade nachos and cheese and milkshakes.

Of teenage girls giggling, sneaking hidden candy in the girls’ bedroom and talking about crushes while perfecting secret handshakes.

Of last minute deadlines (“I promise I’ll plan ahead next time”) and late-night Coke so the kid can finish those final pages; and “Mom can you help me with Algebra?” so I try but oh those wheels turn slowly when you haven’t used them in 20 years.  These are the days of little boys asking “How many steps do you have today?” and helping me meet my goal- sometimes, by dancing with me, or rollerblading, sometimes, by stealing my fitbit and running around the house taking turns until they have earned 25,000 steps or more!

These are the days of fighting over who gets to sit in front and “what can I feed them for second dinner?” and last minute birthday gifts for friends. These days the younger two will do extra chores for a gumball, but the older kids expect actual dollars, slurpees, or technology privileges. These days they go to bed when they get tired and if I’m too tired to tuck them in, they tuck me in instead and they remember to turn out the lights.  But they still ask me to kiss them goodnight and I do it because there’s a last time for everything and this might be it.

These are days of mom on repeat: Did you practice your piano and brush your teeth and did someone feed the dogs?  And can you bring me my phone to work because I forgot it again, or my oatmeal, or my charger? And they laugh because adulting is hard and even mom doesn’t have it figured out, but we work as a team and somehow we hobble along and everyone gets where they need to be. These days are peppered with fighting and fun, and these days end with prayers and forgiveness and grace and exhaustion.

These are the days of praying he can make it through one more meeting;  of trying to stay up until he gets home so he can have someone to lean on, and not always making it. These are the days of 5:15 am alarms and bleary-eyed family devotions and opening the ECC and trying to be cheerful before I’ve finished my first cup of coffee.  These are the days of scheduling family time for hospital visits and funerals; of being emptied all the way out and miraculously filled again by His Body broken and given for us like water in the desert.

These are the days of trying to keep a soft heart in a world that feels like concrete and cynicism and bitterness; of keeping my eyes peeled for hope and growth, and God asking us to trust even if we can’t see Him working.  These are the days of praying for a weary pastor-heart while thanking God that he can meet me for lunch and we still love talking about books we’re reading and Big Ideas.

These are the days of winter isolation and longing for connection; of gratitude that the internet can connect hearts of friends across distance.

These are the days of important conversations along the way, of pouring into their minds and praying they learn to think critically and guard against evil and falsehood. These are the days of discussing quotes and literature at the dinner table, and marvelling at the growth in their minds for about 2 seconds, and then someone farts or spills and even the oldest thinks farts are funny.

These are the days of blasting “Just Dance” in the living room; of loud piano, flute, and trombones blaring; of trying hard to find a quiet place to practice multiplication tables or spelling words; of wondering if it’s all too much for them, for me! When out of the blue somebody starts praying that we have another baby and you realize you’ve passed on a crazy affinity for loud messy big love.

These are the days of asking Siri “What does this food do for my body?” and trying to care about the answer.  These are the days when the scary flu virus is going around; daddy tells them at the dinner table how some even healthy kids have died from it; and the littlest one suddenly has a sore throat and a desperate need for a hug.

These are the days when we remember our times are in God’s hands, and when we pray with a little extra desperation “Guide us waking, O Lord, and guard us sleeping, that awake we may watch with Christ, and asleep we may rest in peace.”