Is it really that simple? All week I've been feeling like I could pull my hair out. The kids are beating each other with sticks, my head feels like it's going to explode, and we feel so. . . distant. This isn't a normal feeling that I have towards my relationship with the kids. This morning as I stood amidst the chaos in a pile of raisins on the kitchen floor (Willow's "seeds", apparently I have a future member of FFA on my hands) holding a child covered in his own poop that my one clean shirt was now also smeared with (it's all in the details, right?, I wanted to run away. But where? I took a step back and knew exactly where I was going to run, a place I have been running away from lately, because "I could do it all myself". As seen by the evidence before me I realized that what I was telling myself was a lie and I needed Him. I asked the kids for forgiveness, said a prayer for peace and patience, and turned up some worship music (well, after cleaning up the poopy child and changing my shirt). If a random stranger stopped by our house and peaked through the window 10 minutes later he would have seen us. Us. Crazy, dancing up and down, hollering, laughing, happy lovers of Jesus.
A clean house won't make my life better. Obedient and cultured children won't make my life better. Unless I have Jesus. It's that simple.
