Easter melt-downs & mercy

This morning we hurried out of our car into the pouring rain and through the puddle filled Ferris High School parking lot for our church's last Easter service of the day.

G carried Sunny while I instinctively but ever so awkwardly carried the heavier Gracie. I decided, in much discomfort, about halfway through our parking lot trek that her 35 pound body riding on my 35 week belly wasn't actually the best idea so I implored G to drop Sunny and instead carry the clumsier, heavier almost two-year old who really actually wanted to walk but would inevitably head straight into the nearest muddy puddle. He obliged and a 3-year-old melt down of epic proportions ensued.

We made a grand entrance into the the buzzing Easter-adorned auditorium foyer, soaking wet and turning heads with our screaming Sunny desperately clawing at our legs and demanding in the most loud and annoying toddler scream/cry/whine to be picked up and carried. It was glorious. My eyes immediately landed on a large bowl of donut holes near the entryway and I somehow broke away from the chaos and made a beeline toward the sugary treats in hopes of a possible diversion/bribe (don't judge) AND because I'm pregnant and pretty much couldn't help myself.

I returned to a newly silent but very sulky Sunny who refused the donut hole and instead thrust her skinny little arms upward in what I assumed was yet another attempt to get me to pick her up--to which I calmly replied "I'm sorry, baby, but Mommy CAN'T  carry you."

She quickly corrected my errant assumption and to my surprise cried "no, HUG, Mommy, HUG!"

I knelt down beside her in the middle of that busy foyer and she melted right into my shoulder and cried the sweetest, sorriest tears of apology known to man. It was as if she literally could not take another single step toward her Sunday school classroom until she'd apologized and been forgiven. 

It broke me and I couldn't stop thinking about her urgent, emotional apology throughout the service...

About the way it feels to know you messed up and the desperate longing for mercy.

About how it feels to be guilty and sorry and then embraced and loved and forgiven.

About how it feels to be defeated and dead on Friday,

scared and uncertain on Saturday, 

and then alive and full of hope everlasting at an empty tomb on Sunday.

Oh, happy day!

"take a deep breath, sit down and read to your children."

I overdid it a bit a couple of weekends ago when I spent 14+ hours too many in the car traveling to Portland and back. My 32 week pregnant body made me pay and I ended up being "laid up" (i.e. basically immobile) for the couple of days following my return. With G still working out of town, I found myself struggling to "take it easy" while my sweet little spawns tore the house apart with their incredibly feisty imaginations. With each crumb and dish that cluttered the kitchen I felt more and more like a failure on the verge, and beat myself up internally over having to keep my kids "in" so I could "rest," and for the fact that they were still in their pjs as we ate our dinner fresh out of the microwave.

Joy seemed as out of reach for me as that matchbox car, miles away at my feet that I kept swiping for over my swollen belly.

And then, out of the blue, in the mix of the bills and junk mail I found a card from my sweet Grandmother, who has gift for mailing letters and birthday cards and love--a lost and beautiful blessing of an art. It has been a little over a month since we have last spoken, but the Good Lord must have told her that I desperately needed these words:

As I read and re-read, my tears seemed to lighten my dark burden and create space for light--for joy.

While this final stretch of my final pregnancy has me weary, winded, and fatigued, I am so encouraged by the wise and God-fearing women in my life who continue to lift me up and remind me that it's actually NOT all about "keeping it together."

These women--grandmas, sisters, moms, friends--remind me that these brutally messy times are all about being desperate--not desperate for things like a vacation or more "stuff" or money--but desperate to find that joy, often hidden but always waiting, in the midst of the chaos. 

And sometimes, that looks like dropping to your knees in the eye of your storm to pull that sweet busy baby into your arms, and just read. Breathe, and read, and hold. 

And now, I offer this letter of blessing and encouragement to you:

Dear tired one--sleepless one--anxious one,

I know at times you must feel completely overwhelmed and like you have "had it." 

But please, remember you are a GREAT mother. You work hard to give your children such great experiences. You work hard to give them the very best of all of you. You are selfless and you are enough.

When dirty clothes are piled high and the sink and countertop are heavy with dishes, please, stop striving. Give yourself enough grace to slow down and drink in this very moment that you can never get back. Take a deep, slow breath--grace in, praise out. Grace in, praise out. Grace in, praise out. 

Find a child and meet them at eye level with an unhurried embrace and their favorite book. 

You are enough and you are SO loved.