Today was our “official” first day of school. Everyone dove in excitedly, and we got everything done that was on our schedule! We waited all day for Matthew to come home, because we knew he was driving home in something pretty special. If you heard the screaming from the West End, those were our children excitedly welcoming their Daddy home from his first day of work at Rittenhouse Builder’s. In his “new” truck, no less.
A few weeks ago, he was offered the position of a project manager at Rittenhouse, and after praying about it the Lord confirmed that this was the right next step to take! He even provided a much-needed new truck for Matthew, and medical benefits. We are incredibly thankful. We were not looking for a new job, but God fit Matthew for this perfectly. I’m so proud of him! Elijah is too, but he was just tired of smiling into the sun.
As for the teacher of those wild and amazing children… she needed to pound out some miles tonight. So, this is me, after running practically all uphill for 3 miles to go fetch Matthew’s old truck and drive it home. Because that is just something we like to do. Or, it might have something to do with the fact that I’m training for a relay race taking place in three weeks. I am slotted for 15 miles, split into 3 runs over the weekend. I’m pretty excited since Matthew and I will be doing it together with a team from Rittenhouse.
So, that was our day in a nutshell! I’m excited for new beginnings, overcoming challenges, and a gracious Heavenly Father who is holding us through it all. The Lord has done great things for us and we are glad! (Psalm 126:3)
faith
365 Days From Then
The van is cleaned out, laundry is going, and sand still sticks to the bottom of my bare feet, escaping from every corner of every bag brought home. Our skin is more tan and our hearts are full of good memories. A year ago, our lives looked quite different. I am blown away at God’s mercy and grace to us this year. From sparing Matthew’s life, to getting out of debt, to providing a “new” vehicle for us… the list goes on. Thank you, Father. A year ago, instead of vacation at the beach, we hung out in a hospital room.
This week was quite different! It was sung to the tune of ocean waves and time away as a whole family. We have never had a vacation for a week with just ourselves in all of our married years! A lovely opportunity came up for us to do so, and we gladly accepted the offer. I think the last time I played in the ocean every day for five days in a row was… this week! Like, IN the ocean, not just on the beach watching one of my babies play in the sand. Elijah actually came up to me in the ocean and laughed out loud, “I love seeing you all wet, Mom!” I played with the “biggie board” as Betty calls it, and made an entire city of sandcastles one day!
Our week was full of front-porch talks, VW van sightings, a ride on the log flume with my two littles, bike rides, “biggie boards”, a visit from dear friends, a visit with family one day, and delicious food. Unfortunately, I forgot to pull out my camera except for a couple of days. I did catch a few extras with my phone, here.
It is hard to see the week come to an end. But new adventures await us as we start school in earnest, and an exciting change is in store for Matthew next week. I will share more about that later.
The Week Heaven Partied
Our three youngest children have been missing their oldest siblings something fierce. Nadine & Elijah are both at different camps and we haven’t seen them in almost a week. Before this, everyone was involved in day-camp and Vacation Bible School. It was a crazy week, full to the brim of excitement, while at the same time draining to my energy levels and gas tank. It was worth every second, though, especially because of what happened.
Elsie was attending kiddie camp and had come home with some homework. We sat on the front porch together and got into a discussion about being born again. She asked the same question Nicodemus asked Jesus in John chapter 3: “How can I be born again?” She understood it in a new way and wanted to be saved from her sin. It was her decision, and she prayed on her own to receive Jesus. That night the angels had a party.
The following week, the three oldest kids had their day camp at the same location. On Wednesday morning at breakfast, Jack said to me, “Mom, I have something to tell you.” I asked him what it was, and he said, “Yesterday at camp I became a Christian.” He grinned. It was just like Jack, to process it himself for an entire day before telling us. And the angels had a party on Tuesday.
That night, we were having family devotions. Nadine said, “Today at camp I became a Christian.” Elijah kind of rolled his eyes and said, “Again?” She replied, “No, I don’t think I was a Christian before. And I don’t remember becoming a Christian.” I reassured her what a wonderful decision that was. Sometimes it’s hard to know for sure if you believe because your parents do, or because you do. Now she knows it’s her own, personal decision. And the angels partied on Wednesday.
Thursday was the last day they were going to day-camp. Elijah was in a stormy mood and everything and everyone was wrong. I picked them up from camp that afternoon and the storm continued. Eventually I had to send him to his room because the cloudiness and moodiness was getting out of hand. When it was time to sit down for supper, he came downstairs. He wanted to talk to me in the living room. We sat on the couch and with tears rolling out of his eyes he told me, “Mom, I just became a Christian in my room.” I could hear the party going on in Heaven on Thursday.
Now we pray for sweet Betty to come to know Jesus as her personal Lord and Savior. She has four little evangelists and their parents aching for her heart to be captured by His love.
What a week. Revival has hit the Weldons. When the big kids come home from camp, we are going to follow Heaven’s lead and have a big party!
Nevertheless He saved them for His name’s sake, that He might make His mighty power known. -Psalm 106:8
“Look to Me, and be saved, All you ends of the earth! For I am God, and there is no other.” -Isaiah 45:22
So they said, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved, you and your household.” -Acts 16:31
“Look to Me, and be saved, All you ends of the earth! For I am God, and there is no other.” -Isaiah 45:22
So they said, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved, you and your household.” -Acts 16:31
I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth. -3 John 1:4
Cleared To Run
I’ve always loved to fly. Something about the sound of an airplane being able to go where my finite body can not on its own, simply amazes me. I remember the sound of an airplane coming back to our small station in the middle of Africa. I remember the pilots calling out in French: attention! before starting the propeller for take-off. I remember being in those Cessnas so many times, eagerly spying out Mount Nyankunde, which meant we were home. My sister always had her head buried in her lap, or eyes closed, so I took in all the scenery for her, my stomach never feeling the queasy hers did. Before each flight, the mechanics cleared the plane for flying.
This weekend is a big deal for Matthew. His body has been cleared to run, and we are pumped up to take this 24 hour flight. We, meaning, he is doing all the running, and I will be on the sidelines cheering him on big time. When we think back to a year ago, we didn’t know his esophagus was closing up and the strange loss of his voice meant more trouble was brewing in the near future. It was a really hot weekend, and whether it was truly canceled because of the heat or not, we look at it as a blessing from God. We don’t know what would have happened out there, but I think God preserved his life.
About 95 percent of folks think what he is doing is pretty crazy. They ask, why? Reading through the first year of the race, here, I am revisited by goosebumps. Is it safe? This question makes Matthew laugh. I don’t believe Matthew is stupid, but he also isn’t fearful. Too often we let fear keep us from pushing harder. If you asked him why he runs, his answer always is: I feel closer to the Almighty God when I run. Running strips him bare. He spends a lot of time in prayer while he runs. On the practical side of safety, his doctors have given him an excellent bill of health. However, on the side of safety where most of us dwell… not wanting to be in pain, shying away from inconvenient, and letting fear of difficulty keep us from getting stronger… he is living on the edge. Because it isn’t about safety, this life on earth. It’s about trusting a really big God who isn’t always safe. As C.S. Lewis penned: “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”
There are three men we pray for daily, throughout the day. One, Jerry, is a prisoner in Africa, and we are praying for him to be found, released and the darkness to fall. One, Saed, is in a known jail, but illegally being tortured and willingly kept from his home country of the United States. Another is a good friend of ours and he lives in an incredibly dark, hellish environment in one of the most unsafe regions of the world. All three are running an eternal race with eternal significance. We don’t know the end of their stories on earth yet. We know what they are experiencing, both willingly and without choice, is bringing even greater glory to God. When Matthew runs, he enters into the suffering of these men who are running too. Maybe not with their feet, but certainly with their lives. As Elsie keeps asking me about Jerry, she says, Mama? Is he still running? Yes, he is still running. And with all of our breath, so we should be too.
We’ve been cleared to run.
A Bug Tie, Three Tissues, and the Truth
This morning I texted my friend the following: I was up til after 3am because my bug tie has an ingrown toenail! Wow. I have never experienced pain like that before… A few seconds later she wrote back: What!? What’s a bug tie? Worse than childbirth? I laughed and laughed. Silly auto-correct. I meant to say “big toe”. A few days ago my big toe started to hurt a little bit. Soon it escalated into a big pain. So big it became a bug tie. Believe me, you never want to experience a bug tie. They’re the worst.
Besides all the excitement of soaking my feet (sounds so fancy, I know), life marches on. I’m tired. I bent over at least a thousand times this weekend alone. I can’t remember if I shaved both armpits or just one side this morning. I can’t remember if I even took a shower. I know I forgot to eat lunch. Every time I went to the bathroom today someone needed me. I keep forgetting to buy toilet paper. We have three squares left and only a few tissues left in this entire house. I think my kids ate ice-cream for lunch. I never made my bed. I forgot to dry the laundry. I remembered how I forgot to put something important in the mail. I know I’m not alone. This is for all you tired women and mamas out there.
When life feels like it’s marching over you like a herd of elephants bent on crushing you to your core, He sees. When the last ounce of energy was used up tucking that last baby in and another one asks for a drink of water, He sees. When you sit on the bathroom floor and scrub the mysterious brown streaks off the wall, that you would like to believe are from muddy shoes, He sees. When you feel like a laundromat, conductor, referee, dictionary, and Cinderella, all in the same moment, He sees. When your words seem to fly back into your face like a boomerang, He sees. When you sneak into that one secret spot and hug the three tissues left to your name, He sees.
Motherhood isn’t about getting a gold star because you did everything right. It isn’t about being noticed or praised or looking good. It’s about loving and loving some more, and when you don’t think you can, you love even more. It’s a no-pay job with eternal dividends. It’s exhausting and frightening and rewarding and exhilarating. No two days are alike, which is why we’re so flexible and resilient and oftentimes reduced to a puddle of tears, clinging to the edge of our sanity alongside that tissue. We’re tired, I know. But please, don’t grow weary of doing good. God’s Word says in the right time we will reap a harvest if we don’t lose heart. If we don’t loosen our grip on the courage it takes to keep on keeping on. It’s a process, this growing weary. It usually begins when we think we got this mama thing under our belt and need a little humbling. But mostly we become weary when we take our eyes off Jesus, who is the only One capable of infusing our war-weary bodies with supernatural strength and stamina. Giving up is a choice. The enemy wants you to give up, give in, and crumple under the load. Jesus wants you to keep your eyes focused on Him, not your surroundings, and let Him sustain you.
As women, I think we tend to fall into two big traps. The “I’m-not-good-enough” trap and the “I’m-not-as-good-as-her” trap. The second we entertain those thoughts, the enemy pounces in with a volley of lies. Those arrows sting and are deadly if we don’t counter-attack with the sword of truth: God’s word. And the truth is: You are perfect in Christ. You are not like her because God needs you to be who He made you to be. The truth is what sets us free to be who we are created to be.
So, those clean counter-tops you wish you had do not define who you are. You are a beautiful woman with a glorious gift of music. The issue you have with speaking your mind does not define who you are. You are a woman whose heart is so generous, you don’t even realize you’re giving. The hidden clutter doesn’t define who you are. You are a true friend who sees a need and meets it without being asked. Your hoard of shoes, or clothes, or cars, or cookbooks are not what make you amazing. Your ability to welcome people into your home at any time, and always speak well of others is what makes you amazing. Your inability to carry a child within your own body does not make you any less of a woman. You have the uncanny ability to create beauty and inspire others to do the same. Your heart is no less able to love and sacrifice just because you never birthed a child. Your unborn babies do not make you a failure as a mother. Your heart is so much fuller because it loves someone no one else has known. Mothers, women, you are so perfectly custom-made by the same God who created the stars and flowers and every grain of sand. He makes no mistakes. Stop believing you are not enough. Stop believing He messed up when He made you. Don’t stop believing you are exactly what He was going for when He began to fashion you in your mother’s womb. He sings over you, He cherishes you, and He never condemns you. Start and never stop believing that truth.
What My Husband Did Behind My Back
Some days hit you like a blast of cold water being unexpectedly tossed over your head during a hot shower. Usually motherhood is a series of such moments, as startling as a scattering of sharp legos all over a bedroom floor: you know they’re there, but you can never be quite prepared for their sting. Such was Friday. Actually, ever since Tuesday my brain had been thinking it was Friday. When Friday at last arrived for real, I was ready for it to finish its comic series of events. At the time, they were not-so-funny events. 
During nap time, Betty came wandering downstairs to where I stood in the kitchen. She sidled up next to me, smoothed her hair and said with a coy look on her face, Is it perfect, mama? I looked a bit closer, thinking she had wet her hair in the bathroom. Nope. There was no hair to wet. She had given herself a generous haircut, right in front. Perfect wasn’t the first word that came to mind.
A teeny tiny part of her bangs remain after her perfect haircut.
My day just kept getting better. While making dinner, which involved mixing up a batch of pizza dough, I grabbed the garlic powder to put a shake of it into the batter. Obviously, I flipped open the wrong side of the cap, as a huge pile of garlic powder dumped like an avalanche into the wet dough. I quickly scooped out as much garlic powder as I could, muttering under my breath. The next best thing to do: double the batch and enjoy the garlic.
As the evening wore on, small things started to get to me. There was mud where I didn’t want mud. There wasn’t hair where I wanted hair. There was arguing. There were interruptions. I have a spot where I like to hide in my room. If I sink down low enough, no one knows I’m there. Friday they seemed to instinctively find me. Especially the nap-less one. I felt like the mama elephant in the book Five Minutes Peace. Eventually it became clear: There is no avoiding the masses, I thought. It’s time to jump back in the boat. So I stopped hiding and plugged on through the evening, mustering up as much strength as I could.
Despite my resolve to be happy when Matthew got home, he was met with a more wiped-out-than-usual countenance. With much grace, he just hugged me. I started going over the difficulties of my day. He took my head in his hands and said something which really caught my attention. It was as startling as a blinding light shining in my eyes: Aim, the kids have never complained to me about you. I needed to stop doing what they never do to me. After looking at Betty’s hair, he let her know it’s not okay for her to cut her own hair, then he turned to me and said simply, She’s three! Yes, indeed. This will pass. It will grow. She learned. Move on.
My emotions were stabling, but not quite steady. I had one last complaint to offer my unwavering husband. I was feeling a bit vengeful towards the bathroom scale, and did a little “Woe is me” routine. Yes, I have been exercising about twice a month. Yes, I am no longer in my twenties, so that matters now. Still, I wish that scale showed me a little slack. I was going to go to the downstairs bathroom to make sure the toilet was flushed and there was no pee all over the seat before our company arrived. Surely my day was on the upswing.
Matthew went upstairs to get cleaned up from work and I decided to check our email before checking the cleanliness status of the powder room. I was a little shocked at what I saw. Next I checked facebook, and the top news in my feed was this:
Surprise anniversary gift for my wife: registering her for the Philly love run half marathon!!! She doesn’t know yet!! Wait till she checks FB or email! Let the training begin! Giddy with excitement!
Let’s just say, I had to go into the downstairs bathroom to compose myself. I spotted a lime on the laundry room floor before walking back into the kitchen. I picked it up and thought pretty seriously about beaning Matthew with it when I saw him. I’m glad some of our company had just arrived and was standing in the kitchen with my sneaky husband, when I emerged. Otherwise, that lime would have made swift contact with his head. He grinned and rubbed the goosebumps off his arms. Risky, risky move, buster.
Since Friday, I’ve thought a lot about difficulties and training. Running this morning in 30-degree weather would not have happened if I had not been presented with this challenge. (My husband knows me pretty well.) Plain and simple, we tend to shy away from difficulties. We want to go from point A to point C without passing through point B. This is impossible. We want to learn a piece of music without ever practicing. We want our kitchen to be spotless without lifting a finger. We want to lose weight without the sacrifice of watching our diet and putting in any effort to exercise. I so desperately want to run 13.1 miles without having to go out there every single day and run one mile or two. It just isn’t going to happen, no matter how much my desire is for it to happen that way. The richness of any accomplishment is deeply rooted in the amount of time it required to succeed.
In the same way, our Heavenly Father knows what’s best for us. He sees that finish line, so very distant from our earthly eyes. He tells us things very similar to what Matthew has been telling me: “You’re stronger than you think, Aim.” My grace is sufficient in weakness, Jesus tells us. Like any good trainer, He pushes us outside our comfort zone. That is where we see results. When you walk the same path over and over, never stretching yourself to go a bit further, you may miss the incredible view just up ahead. When we run the same mile and never push our lungs and our legs past that initial burn, we never discover we have the ability to do a bit more. Jesus totally knows how hard it is. He never once said life would be burden-free, but He invites us to lay our burdens on His capable shoulders. He never said He would only give us as much as WE think we can handle. But He said “My yoke is easy and my burden is light.” He will give you just a bit more than you think you can handle, so you’re stronger to go the next mile. It’s cold, it’s nasty sometimes, but He always sticks with us.
So I start my thirteen-mile journey… one step at a time.
Playing Lost and Found
Tap, tap, tap. I dislike being woken up by tapping. One particular child is often the first person awake and is like a lost puppy until one of his siblings wakes up. I also make the cut, apparently. I shove my rice-bag out from under the covers and sleepily ask him to warm it up for me before I venture out of my warm cocoon. He’s good about things like that. Bringing me my hot tea to ease the blow of morning. Just like his daddy.
Yesterday morning we got into the project of cleaning the attic. It culminated when I looked at their artificial tree, one-third-lit-up, and decided it was time to get it out to the garbage before the trash men came. Elsie & Jack ran ahead of us to stop the trash truck if they were there. They were. It was a pretty funny sight: running outside and yelling, “Wait! Wait!” in my hot pink pajama pants, funky sweater and socks. My feet were a muddy mess. But we made it.
This morning started a bit abruptly when I woke up remembering we had no milk or eggs in the house. A farm and grocery store trip later, we were set. That’s when I thought it was a good idea to probably get our transmission checked out by some professionals. I’ve been describing the sounds our van has been making to various people, but it needed an actual diagnosis. Five kids in a two-chair waiting room was made much more bearable with a small amount of prep and a bag of books. We left with no absolute answers, but the knowledge it needs some further tests. Fun stuff.
After coming home, I thought I should get a few more groceries now that I was more awake and had remembered the rest of my list. I did a quick check for my wallet, only to find it missing. I sort of started to freak out a bit. I called the transmission shop to see if I left it there. Then I called them again, because two of the kids thought they remembered I did in fact have it there. Nope. The man was sweet enough to even check inside the Christmas tree and decorative plant in their waiting room. Nothing.
Next, I drove all the way back to the small grocery store. Maybe I left it on the counter in my foggy morning state. The store was closed. I cried. Two small Amish boys were playing in the parking lot, so I asked them if whoever worked there was home. Yep. So, I knocked on their door and talked to a few sweet people who obligingly opened the store for me to double-check for my lost wallet. Nope. Nothing.
I was pretty discouraged, but know God’s not about discouragement, rather hope and salvation. We all were praying for it to be found. I thought I had looked everywhere. With a weary self, I started to finish tidying the kitchen for supper. The tablecloth was covered in crumbs and yogurt. As I began to fold it up, my hand fell on something lumpy. Underneath one of the folds… which had been folded up since early that morning so I could write out my “list” for the day on the wooden surface of the table… underneath was my wallet. It almost seemed to smile at me. I held it up for the kids to see, and we all laughed. They are so patient with me.
You know who else is patient? My wonderful heavenly Father. He LOVES to find lost things. He is the relentless searcher of the lost. He is the gracious rescuer of the lost. He is the all-knowing God, who waits and is patient for us… because sometimes we’re not ready to accept His gift. Sometimes He has more work to do before He gives us what He already knows we need. In the meantime, He tells us: Do not be afraid; Do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will help you. I will strengthen you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. (Isaiah 41:10)
It reminds me of a current real-time situation we are praying about right now: Find Jerry. If you have time, please read his story and pray along with us that God will open the eyes of the right people to find him.
Giving Thanks for Twenty-Seven, Road Trips and Scavenger Hunts
Thanksgiving weekend began with our Weldon family gathering. Turkey vegetable tray, dangly earrings, a crackling fire, and games highlighted our time together. We even managed to pull off a paleo thanksgiving breakfast, complete with monkey bread!
Next, we took off for New York. With new tires on the van and every inch packed to the gills, sipping joy tea, we listened to a Thanksgiving history audio book from my dad and enjoyed an almost completely argument-free drive up North. It was delightful!
We were welcomed by a happy sign:
The highlight of our time together was the Mall Scavenger Hunt we did one day. We divided into four teams, according to birth. Various items on the list to find were: “something that smells good, the largest bug, and someone doing the best karate move.” We also had to “plank” as a team and find Grandma and Grandpa who were wandering around the mall. The team who found them first got… the honor of finding them first. As leader of the 3rd-borns, I’d like to acknowledge we found them first. We had one hour to scavenge the mall. The creativity started flowing.
There were the firstborns:
The second-borns:
The third-borns:
The fourth-borns (and Betty):
Besides the fun of the scavenger hunt, the daddies took almost all the kids ice-skating, and we enjoyed snow, games, and many delicious meals together.
Our entire family:
At the beginning of November, my dad reminded us of the news we received as a family twenty-two years ago: Get one small bag packed with all that you treasure the most. Get ready to evacuate Nyankunde tomorrow! As a girl of almost twelve, this was an exciting adventure. It didn’t turn out how I imagined, however. Our “quick” trip back to the United States turned into permanent. It’s hard to imagine how twenty-two years later, our family of six has grown into a family of twenty-seven, with another on the way! (My sister, not me!) God has richly blessed us with a family who loves each other, drives great distances to be with each other, and children who think their other cousins are the absolute bomb-diggity! I couldn’t be more thankful.
Oscopy, Ontology, Bananafanafofology
Today was a great day to be in the city. I ran back and forth from the medical building to the parking lot to add more money to the meter, as the doctor’s appointment got longer and longer. A “quick” consult with the ENT surgeon led to seeing yet another specialist at Jefferson hospital in Philly. The first doctor didn’t like what he saw in the subglottic region of Matthew’s windpipe. The second doctor videotaped his way down Matthew’s throat and explained what we were looking at:
See here and here? Those are your vocal chords. They are supposed to be white, not bright red like that. Down beyond this area is where you are having swelling, and which makes it hard for you to breathe. It was fascinating. Like our friend (who is a speech-language pathologist) described his vocal chords, they looked like a butterfly flapping its wings… except this butterfly shouldn’t be red. The real problem lies just under the voice box, and we discussed what our next step needs to be. As the Wegener’s runs its course, it acts somewhat like a roller-coaster: flaring up and then getting back under control. We are hopeful to be on the downward slope right now.
As long as things don’t flare way back up, he is scheduled for a bronchoscopy in four weeks in order to closely examine the extent of the subglottic stenosis and to perform a balloon dilation of his stenotic area. Basically, opening up his airway ever so little and hoping this small dilation will remain open… then doing it again a few weeks later if his body handles it well. He explained it as a two steps forward and one step back operation. He will also be seeing an otologist about his ears… which have some problems again.
As crazy as it is to keep all the doctors in order, we are so incredibly thankful to have access to these remarkable specialists. We are thankful his eye tubes have still held up and look good a couple of years after that surgery. We are thankful for people who have joyfully watched our children so we can go to all these appointments and for kids who come home and report having “the best day ever!” We are thankful for being forced to slow down and recognize what is truly important. It isn’t our car, our house, our clothes, or our status. It is our breath, our relationships, our time and how we use it. We know we belong to the God of the universe, the God who sees. We don’t know when our last breath will be, but we know when it ends on this earth, our life truly begins. Until that day, we want every moment to count.
Flapper girl with my motorcycle man last night.
Green Spirals and Merciful Days
Mom, you never get peace, Jack said to me the other day. Wait! You had peace once! And he went on to talk about when they all went to Grandma’s house. I laughed out loud. Or if you’re going to use today’s lingo, I “roffled”. That is what I say in my head when I read ROFL… rolling on the floor laughing. No, I didn’t actually roll, or roffle, but I did achieve a small release of stress when I laughed out loud. Or lolled. (That’s LOL, btw.)
Tonight was no exception. I had great fun spiralizing my zucchini into fake noodles and tossing them with coconut sauce and blackened chicken. The kids watched Daniel Boone so I could spin deliciousness into my pots. But there is always one who doesn’t get the “peace memo”. She rolled on the floor crying. It’s always interesting trying to cook while stepping over a crying toddler. My strategy was to wait until they were so hungry, they would forget that the green zucchini noodles were not actually made from pasta. It worked for two of them, took convincing for two of them, and downright failed for the fifth one. This is when I use every ounce in my body not to take a two-year-old’s opinion of my cooking to heart. In the middle of our green spaghetti supper, a nameless highchair dweller knocked over one of the herb pots on the window sill. The walls start closing in when things like that happen.
I’ve been waiting for a really really good excuse to scrub my kitchen floor. The successful eaters got chocolate ice-cream for dessert. The last one… did not. An hour later, I graciously gave her a banana, because she at least touched it to her tongue. Elijah said, Mom, you were really merciful tonight! when he saw her eating the banana. Thanks, Buddy.
Then I remembered these verses I just read.
But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
His mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”
The Lord is good to those who wait for him,
to the soul that seeks him.
(Lamentations 3:21-25)
Even when I mess up, spill dirt, and wreck what He has planned… He still shows steadfast love, unending mercy, and abundant faithfulness.
So the truth is, despite what is outwardly going on, inside I always have peace. Jesus has wiped my heart of its spills and dirt. He has left the calm assurance of His forgiveness and faithfulness in place of the mess. Tomorrow, His mercies are new.
And tomorrow, maybe my floor will be clean.
Grow Old With Me 