Sunday, August 7, 2011

Sabbath calling

i just wanted today to look differently than yesterday, i said as we argued through those leaps and bounds from the original 'complaint.' i wanted lunch to be with four hands, owen held and diapers changed and to feel teamwork once again. tears trickle out their frustration, and i secretly beg him to understand. can a saturday feel like a break for a mama at home all week? she whose job sleeps in her arms at night, suckling through the waning darkness, whose little bosses require multi-tasking and imagination all at the same time? and i know he knows, for he works Out There and comes home to wife all rumpled, cross-legged on couch in pj's, and he swoops in to hold babies and be jungle gym and freely offers bottle and ordered pizza. but our saturdays have rolled in like mondays, just a day older for baby and another one with split shifts and 4 boys all-at-once.

we hug tightly, kiss deeply, our fears and frustrations all mixing with oxygen and apologies, and somehow we know to just keep trying, know that things will even out, and we're going to be okay.

later, scrubbing dishes, white bubbles serving tenure to swish, swish, rinse, i hear His voice: will tomorrow look differently than today?
all my sundays have looked like mondays and wednesdays, and how would anyone ever know there was a sabbath if only watching me? i have not worshipped in a house, have not put down my work to rest, have hardly let prayers leave my lips nor raised hands in silent desperation. oh, i'm saved, a wrecked soul redeemed, but how could sabbath be different for this child?

i still didn't go to church today. there are a million excuses, always. and yes, i know my work of love and home-tending do much to honor Him, yet, i have been alone for a long time. i am reminded of the need for sisters and brothers with fellowship-skin, touch that heals and gives, space to worship out loud and to hear truth. this is a hard season of all kinds of limbos, the will-he-need-to-nurse, the war of anxious child in nursery, the task of getting out-of-doors in one piece let alone with matching socks.....

dishes are done. day is almost done. owen is bouncing. shea and connor are not-sleeping. avery is dreaming by now. and i... i am praying in repentence for forsaking the body so long and grateful that there will be Sabbath.

5 comments:

Jodi said...

Hugs friend. I wish i could lend a hand. xx

Nancy said...

I remember trying to explain to my husband, when the kids were small, that days off and vacation look pretty much like every other day in the life of a mother.

Praying you receive the gift of Sabbath soon, dear one.

Ostriches Look Funny said...

I know how you feel, sort of. You need rest. Soul AND body rest. Go get it girl!

Craig said...

a year ago I wouldn't have understood this – but blogging in this community – and reading exceptional moms like you – I get it – I SO GET IT. Your work is truly, truly important – and it comes with zero time off. I'll send Laska the love Kitty over to babysit the kids if you'd like – it only takes a few days notice – and he'll come bearing swag bags ツ - and he works for Kitty treats. But seriously – I so respect – SO RESPECT your mom-ness. God bless and keep you Misty.

Craig said...

just wanted you to know that I've been by to look for new words – I heart reading you. so I'll just be patient – come back later :-) God bless and keep you and each and every one of yours Misty.