|Afternoon at the Theater|
I have felt discouraged lately with a long to do list that never seems to get accomplished I can’t get the house cleaned and make dinner and spend all my time with the kids and Jazz and prep for Christmas and eat healthy and run errands and give naps and be an individual every day. I’m way behind on my blog. On the laundry. On sleep. On prep for Lincoln’s first birthday. I always wish I had more time. I feel consistently behind in all of my “chores” and also feel that pull to give my kids enough nurturing attention. Mom guilt is a heavy load for me. I wish there was a magic formula that would balance out all of my time, but there isn’t.
Like most of the country, my heart has been heavy this week.
My soul aches for those babies, and for their families and for their community.
Last night, I was putting Isabelle to bed and we got out a new book- The Velveteen Rabbit. If you haven’t read this one lately, grab some tissues, its a sad one. She asked to read the book on my bed instead of hers- so we snuggled down on my big bed with a warning that we probably wouldn’t make it through the whole book in one night. We began reading about the little bunny that wants to be real, that wants to be loved and accepted. Isabelle held Olivia tightly as we read about the rabbit getting worn and shabby, loved to tatters. I wept as I thought of all those moms and dads in Connecticut who weren’t reading books to their children.
After we finished the book, I picked her up to carry her to bed, and out of the blue, she asked me to rockabye her. I carried her sleepy body to the rocking chair by the Christmas tree, her body sprawled all across my chest and lap as I held her. I think she knew I needed a little extra love last night… my beautiful three year old fell asleep in my arms with the most peaceful soft face. I held her and rocked her and thought about our day making cookies together and attending the nutcracker. I looked around at my messy house, the piles of laundry, the scattered toys, the dishes in the sink. I memorized my sweet baby’s face and and felt such compassion for those families who were missing their babies. I hurt for them. For the unopened christmas gifts in the closet. For the sticky fingerprints on the table. For the siblings left behind. For the laundry that will need to be washed and dried and put away in an empty room. Soon I tucked Isabelle in her warm bed, kissed her, and shut the door. Safe and sound.
Today, as I led our primary children at church in Away in a Manger, I wept again. Looking into the faces of these tiny souls who knew all the words to all the verses and were so proud to sing loudly for me… their lives so fresh. Clean, happy, bright faces. I could barely get through the song without losing my composure. What a horrible tragedy.
I’m holding my kids a little closer this week. The laundry is a little higher, my to-do list a bit longer. It can wait.
be near me Lord Jesus
I ask thee to stay
Close by me forever
and love me I pray
bless all the dear children
in thy tender care
and fit us for heaven
to live with thee there.