In the past week I have washed peed on bedding because Quinn decided to take of his clothes in bed and sleep in the nude. I discovered that the cat had urinated on a pile of coats the kids left in the front hall closet. Piper decided to visit a friend without asking and I had to walk all over the neighborhood calling her, in a near panic because she'd gone missing. Ciaran got into the laundry room again, and made a mess so impressive, I'm not even sure how to begin cleaning up all that he got into.
Needless to say, it's been a stressful week. The kind of week where I'm not on top of motherhood, it's on top of me. I feel inadequate, ineffective, and frustrated. I want to throw my hands up and be done. Then I feel guilty for thinking such a thing. I mean, wasn't this all I ever wanted?
Finally, I remembered that there is a wonderful thing called "prayer". I poured it all out to God, I told Him how I hated trying to make all the bills fit in a budget, how I don't have enough hands to do all that needs to be done around the house, how I worry about fitting in all that I want to do with homeschooling, how hard it is to spend time with the kids and keep the house clean, and how I don't like gardening at all. After getting everything out, I tried to silence myself and wait for an answer.
Suddenly it became clear that I could put my frustrations and burdens on Him, and He would carry me. I can trust in Him. He can bring peace to my chaos if only I will let Him. My family, my home, and even my life are no longer mine, but His. And He can do great things. But it will help so much, if I would get out of the way and let Him.