It's Friday. Where did the week go? It was just Monday, and I was posting my thankful list. But anyway, it's Friday, and I just love Gypsy Mama and her blog and especially these five minutes on Friday to just write it out. Will you join me? And her? And all the others writing for five minutes on Friday?
Today's Topic: Deep Breath
Here I go...
Deep Breath.
Because it's 10:33 pm on Friday night, and I haven't stopped all day long. Breathing deep into the fact that finally the kids are sound asleep, and the house is quiet and I can breathe for just one second.
Deep Breath.
As I stare at the grocery list before me on the kitchen table. Coupons scattered all around, and I punch the numbers into the calculator one more time in hopes that a math miracle has occurred, and I feel overwhelmed by this not-so-small task of feeding this family while sticking to the budget. Deep breath. Because he has promised to provide, and that might just mean giving up my idea of the perfect breakfast, lunch, and dinner, as he opens my eyes to my full pantry and fridge, and he reminds me of the Israelite's manna. "And he humbled you and let you hunger and fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that he might make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD," (Deut. 8:3, ESV)
Deep Breath.
As John kicks his leg in frustration at the nurse, wanting that blood pressure cuff off his leg, and we just need to be cleared for operation. But his typical anger is making that blood pressure soar too high for an all-clear. Deep breath. And I ask the nurse for a cracker, and John holds it in hand and he is good, as is his blood pressure, and we all breath deep with relief, as the nurse and I both let out a relieved laugh.
Deep breath.
On a Friday night spent at three different grocery stores, a far cry from the Friday nights of the early years of dating. John is crying, and Ada is dancing down the aisle, oblivious to the three other customers trying to get their shopping done, and the prescription eye drops will be another 30 minutes. Deep breath, and Scott will take the kids to the car, and I can enjoy ten minutes of peace on this Friday night in Target.
Deep breath.
On this afternoon when the dishes and the laundry and the toys are piled high because of a morning spent at the doctor's office, but there is still much to do and never enough time to do it. Deep breath, as I hear that all familiar lie that I am inadequate as their mother, his wife, the homemaker. Deep breath, as I am reminded that I am home not to have the perfect house but to walk and talk the gospel with these children when we sit and when we rise and when we lie down again. And that can happen in the midst of messy; in fact, that's probably the ideal place to talk of the gospel.
Deep breath.
And I remember, "Rejoice in the Lord, always. Again, I will say Rejoice...the Lord is at hand," (Phil. 4:4-5, ESV).
Deep breath.
Killing time in Target, while waiting on John's eye drop prescription. John was thrilled about the situation;)
