A little time to write, a little time to pray, a little time to prepare for the day…
I’m not normally up early in the morning, but this morning I am, probably because my husband forgot to set his alarm, therefore I slept straight until 4:30 am, when he eventually woke himself up, and I did not have to get up at 3 to shake him awake. A blessing for me, although probably not for him. At least I’ve reminded myself that I do something constructive for him besides pointing out the many ways our house is falling apart. I think he still better appreciates the hired girl who sincerely cares about his calves and cows. And the hired boy who brings him coffee and donuts at least once a week.
I’m going to pray while I have a little cry…
Dear Lord, I know You are the bigger reality. I know that you are using this strange life, this strange marriage to care for me and the children. I am thankful for the freedom to stay home and care for them. I am also thankful for the freedom to get out of the house and go other places. Please, Lord, don’t let this house fall around us. Help us figure out what is wiser–to keep the smoke alarms connected and working or to deal with chirping alarms in the middle of the night nine and half feet in the air. And help me to know what to do about the spot above the bathtub. And help Dean to fix the porch steps. It’s very discouraging to have someone over for dinner (which You know I hardly ever do) and then the porch steps break under them as they leave. Are You telling me it’s okay not to have people over? Or is it to point out that I married someone who doesn’t care about much?
Dear Lord, please just keep near to me and the children. Please help us to live. Help me to counteract the things Dean says to them. Give us love for each other. For You nothing is impossible.
Dear Lord, there is the sunset. It is maroon under blue, overlaid with the black lace of bare branches. People are driving on the road, quiet headlights going here and there. The first bird woke up. Probably the one above my bedroom window. I’ve become almost reconciled to them. They haven’t scratched through the drywall in eleven years. Perhaps they never will.
Please dear Lord, forgive me my despair. Your kingdom is about joy and hope. I belong to that, but I live here. It’s good to know that You wept, too. Maybe depression doesn’t always equal sin.
Thank you for being my God and making me Your people. May my family be Your people, too.
In Your Name, Amen.
And now to prepare for the day, make a schedule for the school week, think about what kinds of things I need to cook. I don’t know… somehow I’ll make it through. If you don’t mind, and if you’ve read this far, you probably care a little, please pray a little prayer for us, too.