Wed 28 Jul 2010
there i was. dragging my feet through the house, solemnly bearing the heavy load of overwhelmth (not a word, but it should be). overwhelmed at my to-do list:
to-do
to-find
to-call
to-see
to-clean
to-fix
to-feel
to-file
to-put-away
to-dump
to-worry-about
to-buy-with-money-we-don’t-have
my former excitement about meeting up for lunch with friends before today turned to fear and dread. i can’t go. i feel so low. buried.
of course i can’t find what i need for pack meeting tonight and at every turn in my search i’m confronted with another pile of things i need to-do-something-about.
i want to go back to bed. too little sleep make all the rest of the tos feel even more heavy, more hopeless. i want to curl up in a ball and wake up to no more tos.
and then it happens.
walking past the bed–resisting the urge to throw myself upon it–towards the bathroom i glance down at the laundry basket erupting with to-files and to-put-aways and i notice a little brown corner of something. gently i tug. out comes the scout shirt i so desperately needed to find so my youngest (you know, the one who also needs new church shoes, new regular shoes and a new church shirt and with whom i have been supposed to have been practicing math facts all summer) can get his arrow of light tonight and transition from blue to brown without once more being humiliated for not being offspring to one of those with-it moms. the ones who have a new scout shirt for every son (neatly pressed and with all the requisite badges and bandelos and banditos (or whatever) neatly sewn on in perfect tiny stitches).
the phrase may be overused, but there are no other words.
tender mercy.
as i continue past the basket intending to hang the crinkly shirt in the bathroom (iron? really?), i smile, glance heavenwards and send up a tiny prayer. cognizant of the fact i have walked past that basket hundreds of times. knowing i’ve looked everywhere for that shirt, even dragging out the two adult shirts from my husband’s closet to see if perhaps one of them is really the one i’ve been looking for.
sure it is a simple thing. but it is no accident. i needed just a glimpse of light, some tiny ray of hope. reassurance that somehow i could make my way through it all.
sent, received and duly noted.
thank you.
July 28th, 2010 at 11:35 am
Glad to know I am not the only one overwhelmed by the to do’s. I love those tender mercies, reminds me that it will all be okay!
July 28th, 2010 at 2:25 pm
This made me cry. In a good way. I needed to be reminded of this today. Thank you. And I love you.
July 28th, 2010 at 7:04 pm
ah, this was exactly what I needed. Thank you.
Bless you.
July 29th, 2010 at 12:22 am
Yes…just when you need it most, it comes. And, I’m glad the laundry basket was a source of happiness for you today. I can’t tell you how many times (weekly) I look and mine and want to cry. Talk about being buried…
July 29th, 2010 at 9:09 am
Tender indeed.
And, just because it’s easy to forget, here’s what I believe: You are the perfect mother for your children. They chose you. Out of all the mothers who ever did or could live.
Because no one else in all the world, in all the history of the world has the perfect combination of qualities to give them the unique opportunities and challenges they need to become the individuals they must become. Wow. They are lucky to have you.
Yeah, I know you’re lucky to have them too.
July 29th, 2010 at 11:09 am
I just want to add
Amen.
I have felt similar feelings before. I’m glad God is in the details.
August 2nd, 2010 at 12:13 pm
Thank you for this. You have an amazing way with words. And Melody . . thank you for your comment too. It’s very easy to beat myself up over the kind of mother I am or think I should be. Tender Mercy indeed.
August 3rd, 2010 at 1:09 am
I’m so glad that lunch happened!
You are awesome!
August 8th, 2010 at 10:06 pm
I needed this tonite. Thank you.