God's Work

Chick-fil-A love.

Yesterday morning wasn't my favorite.  All I wanted, needed, and felt like I deserved was five minutes of peace and quiet to get myself ready for church and put myself in the right frame of mind to be taught by the Spirit.  Well, it wasn't happening quite the way I planned- I was getting flustered and annoyed with my kids, I was snapping at my husband, and I was starting to sweat.  It wasn't pretty.  Church doesn't start until noon for us, and every Sunday I dream of a calm, relaxed morning where we do everything we can to invite the Spirit into our home and leave an orderly, clean house behind as we head out the door.  I don't think it has ever happened, and it certainly wasn't happening yesterday morning.  After a self-induced, stressful couple of hours it was time to leave, but I knew I needed to take a minute and gather my thoughts before we left.  I made time to say a quick prayer, asking for forgiveness for my ever present shortcomings and for the ability to feel the Spirit and better find joy, hope, and encouragement in my role as Stella and Eliza's mother.

Well, it didn't take long for that prayer to be answered.  First, we sang Be Still My Soul as the opening hymn.  It is one of my favorites, and the first verse was the perfect response to the pleas I offered only an hour before:

 "Be still, my soul: The Lord is on thy side;

With patience bear thy cross of grief or pain.

Leave to thy God to order and provide; 

In ev'ry change he faithful will remain.

Be still, my soul: Thy best, thy heav'nly friend.

Thru thorny ways leads to a joyful end."

Now, I certainly don't look at my children or the blessing of motherhood as a "cross of grief or pain", but some moments are hard.  The needs, the dishes, the laundry- it never ends.  It's such emotional work, and it is so easy to lose sight of why I am doing this and how it should be done.  This verse reminded me that I am not alone in the tiresome journey of trying to raise these precious souls.  The Lord knows what my days are like.  He knows that I love my children, but that sometimes I just want a little bit of space.  And if I rely on Him, it is He who will help me through the tough moments, and relish with me the happy ones.

The music wasn't the only thing that spoke to my soul yesterday. It was fast and testimony meeting and a few things were said that I know were just for me.  One sister, speaking of her younger sibling having some struggles as a missionary, said something along the lines that some of the best things we do are the hardest things we do.  Why isn't that just the perfect way to describe motherhood?  I can attest that it makes up the best and worst moments of my day on a regular basis.  Another sister emotionally praised the young mothers of our ward.  She reflected on the days where you just don't want to be the one to have to do everything, but then you realize you're the mom and you have to do it, so you pick yourself up and get things done.  And that is all that matters.  It was a great description of the morning I just had, and the perfect words to bring reassurance that my prayers are heard, no matter how frustrated I might have been when I offered them up.

We dance, we visit the farm stand, we start preschool, and we miss our big sister all the live-long day.

Perhaps I am still feeling the residual effects of twelve straight days alone with my kids.  It was twelve days spent eating too much fast food, building forts, exploring our new home, taking way too many trips to Target to help pass the time, and deciding to ditch the crib.  There were a few tough moments (like mega-meltdowns on one of those Target trips) and long evenings spent unpacking just one more box.  But we did it.  We were more than happy to have our daddy back when the day came, but I felt pretty proud with the way things turned out.  

Dinner eaten out of a vegetable platter in a fort.  Entering the big-girl-bed phase of life.  Enjoying breakfast.

Our beautiful new home.  Our 9th trip to Target in 12 days.  Ipad time in the laundry basket.

While it wasn't twelve days full of me being a perfect mother, or my daughters being perfect children; it was a few happy hours spent reading books, some perfect moments of sisterly love, and lots of gentle reminders that I am doing God's work.  However; as my previous story indicates, it didn't take me long to forget this important truth.  Every day I can feel myself being stretched and molded into a better mother; the mother my Heavenly Father knows I can be.  It isn't always a pleasant process, but it is a necessary one.  I hope the end result is something we can both be proud of.

I mean...