I woke up, sleep deprived, to two sick kids, school to be taught, and a mess of a headache.
Maybe I should have just stayed in bed.
Malfunctioning toilets, smoothies-all-over-the-floor, math-crying (you know, the crying that accompanies math on days when everything else is already falling apart), fevers, Kleenex, a mommy-run-down, and only one lap to house it all.
I poured myself out today...completely and totally. So much emptied that, by bedtime, I wasn't even surprised when the dog peed in her kennel. My voice barely held inflection as I assured my six year old that the smoothie would clean out of her shirt.
I sent my nine year old upstairs to do her nighttime chores while I prepared her younger, under the weather, sisters for bed. As I finished teeth brushing, nose blowing, and medicine giving, I climbed into bed with them, one on each side, and fell flat onto my back.
The word floated through my aching body.
When days run into nights and sleep comes in patches, squeezed between two fever-ridden bodies...this is when the mother breaks. When she is emptied. And just as He filled the jars of the widow, and healed the ear of the soldier, so will he mend us. Bring us back to full. And it's only here...when there's nothing left...that His healing seems most miraculous.
As their breathing becomes slow and they drift off to a deep slumber that I pray will soothe what ails them, I close my eyes and breathe deep. One more day.
I help the big sister get to sleep, then head to do the only thing I know to do when I have nothing left.
I grab my pen and my Bible and start copying. I am writing through books of the Bible right now...mostly because it's the most effective way I know to meditate on the Word of God, even when I'm too tired to do so.
My breathing slows as I write methodically, eternal truths burning into my soul as they are etched onto paper...and the filling begins.
It takes a whole lot of faith for me to admit that I can handle no more. It's hard for me to come to the place where I throw my hands in the air and admit that I am void of any more giving. But this truth...that I am a broken vessel empty of anything worthy to give...is true even on my best day.
Today is really no different...but it's always the mess, the crying, and the tired mama, that sends me running straight for the cross.
I thank God for days like today...the ones that put me in my place. Humbled, brought low, muddling through with the sinking realization that I cannot keep going. I love it when He shows up, picks me up and keeps right on walking. Straight towards holiness.