Rough Morning

On Wednesday mornings, I have the pleasure of getting my three children ready for school/daycare solo while I prepare myself for a day of work in the ER.  The word "stressful" is not even close to describing the feelings that I have between the hours of 6:30am and 8:15am.  It's more accurate to say exhausted, panicked, crazy, disoriented, agitated and unstable, all rolled into one delightful mother.  One wonders after so many years of interrupted sleep what it would be like if I actually woke up, had a few minutes to orient myself and then rise when I felt it was time. 

Maybe I would then build a pyramid and run a marathon simultaneously.

So this particular morning, I was feeling on top of my game.  Lunches were made in advance, clothes were already laid out for wear and backpacks were already packed.  I was hesitantly confident that I could locate two pairs of matching socks for the boys.  All I needed to do was dress them, feed them, do hygiene, love on them and move on with our lives.  Piece of cake.

Except one factor that gets me every time.  On occasion, children are not thankful for your diligent work. 
Chase didn't like his shirt.
Justin refused to wear "those pants".
Justin threw his body on the floor because I prepared a cup of milk for him.

And then he screamed at me with unadulterated fury. 

All I could really do was walk away.  To be honest?  My feelings were hurt.  Sometimes as a mother, when I stress so much to make sure every single one of the children are taken care of, it shocks me when it blows up in my face for completely different reasons. So I went through the rest of the morning and I couldn't really help but feel an undercurrent of sadness.  He yelled at me like I had done something horrible.  And I was only trying to love him and anticipate what he needed before he asked.

So I did my best to power through it, to smile and accept his eventual apology.  I drove him to school and he ran up to the door of the preschool before I could grab his hand and enter together.  He ran to his teacher and was so excited to see her.  He immediately began playing with his friends and was lost in the joy of the moment.  I signed him in and approached him to hug him good-bye.  He received the hug half-heartedly and continued playing. 

So I reminded myself that he was two, and he had so much going on.  I reminded myself that as a mother, I didn't need to be thanked every single day, especially by a two year old who sees the world as revolving around him.  I reminded myself that my world does revolve around him, and he's pretty accurate in that.  And I headed for the door. 

The door to the preschool was just about to close behind me when I heard his voice.  It was hard to hear as the door was closing, but I did hear clear as day "Bye Mommy! I love you!"  I turned around and held the door open, peaking my head in to look at the doorway of his preschool room.  His beautiful little face with big brown eyes and huge dimples smiled back at me.  He waved and looked so happy.  "Love you Mommy."

It made my whole day. 

And as I drove to work, I couldn't help but wonder....is that an ounce of what God feels when I finally stop in my day to acknowledge Him?  Does He wonder why I take so long in the day to pray?  Does it break His heart when I get angry at random moments when I think my expectations aren't met?  Does He feel broken-hearted when I give Him a half-hearted hug as I'm thrilled to engage in the world?  Does His heart leap for joy when I turn and profess my love for Him sincerely, if only for a moment?

I think so.  And I need to do better.  But the encouraging thing is that because I know how my heart responds to my babies, I have an inkling about how His heart responds to me.  Justin could burn down the house, (and he probably will someday) and it wouldn't matter.  My deep profound love for that child is interwoven into the very core of who I am.  He's stuck with me and to think....God's love for His people is exponentially bigger than anything I could imagine. 

It's just beautiful.