disaster day

The morning began with news that came down in heavy sadness on my shoulders.

I kept taking it to Jesus.

But I forgot to leave it with Him.

Then there were hours staring at the computer screen, a deadline project that was far from my expertise.

And it had to be done all over again because I hadn’t had the sample I needed when I started.

Lunch was late and rushed.  Naps were sketchy at best.

Children ran around making more messes than I could keep track of.

And then, when finally, there was peaceful quiet, I sat down.

With Chai and Colossians and Ann Voskamp and Ashleigh Baker.

A brief interlude of perspective and prayer and peace.

And then everyone awoke and my farmer got home to a table filled not with dinner but with half-baked graham crackers.

The soup wasn’t even in the pot and no, I hadn’t baked bread, and we opted for waffles and sausage.

Dinner was late and he had to cook it and I was in tears.

He made me sit down and wouldn’t let me wash the dishes.

His gentle touch willed me to relax as he came up behind me and kissed my lips and rubbed my temples.

Finally, all was quiet.  The girls, for the first time this week, neither lost their dinner nor cried over-long at bedtime.

He brought me water and the homemade tapioca I’d only slightly burnt and we watched a movie with me resting on his shoulder.

Curled up in bed, earlier than of late, more tears hit my pillow.

The stress that had built up all day was finally relinquishing its hold on me.

(Or perhaps, me on it?)

I breathed that double-sigh I always do after a good cry—several times.

“Thank you for relaxing me,” I whispered.

And there, in the darkness, he was laughing.  But not at me.

“Why would you need relaxing?” he chuckled.

And then we were both laughing.  At our girls.  At ourselves.  At the disaster of a day I’d had.

A good night’s sleep later and it doesn’t seem so bad.  But in the midst of it, ‘twas more of a disaster than I could handle alone.

Even though I tried.

So today?

The first verses of Colossians are staring at me as I wash dishes (thank you, Ann).

I’m going to keep my promise to my husband and not tackle any project larger than the laundry while he’s gone (thank you, Love).

And I’m letting Him finish the work I can only ever begin to begin (thank you, Ashleigh).

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P.S. This post was half-written in my head, and I think I messed up the stopwatch and used more like 7 minutes and 40 seconds start to finish, and I can’t keep from editing a bit when I go back to add links—so it’s hardly fair to link it in Lisa-Jo’s 5-minute Friday, because it’s not even based on a photo prompt, but I’m going to anyway.  Call it a 10-minute Thursday post since I wrote it Thursday?