Closing Thoughts.

It has been a full day. The kind of day where you have a billion things to do and have just enough time to do them--never late, never absent--but always rushed, fitting everything into the tiny span of time in which you have to do it. My day started at 3:45 this morning with a certain little boy whispering of a stomachache, and, while he went back to sleep, I did not, and the day sort of spun forward. It was a good spinning. This is the humorous part of stay-at-home Motherhood in my opinion: Some days are quiet and still, where no one outside your small gaggle of little ones is in need of your attention, while other days are packed with commitments and traffic and running around. And so today was that day. Helping at church, helping at school, helping friends, running last-minute errands, all really great things. Followed by prepping dinner and rushing to dance class and eating dinner and finding time to debrief with my husband before spending time alone with each child, the homework and the reading and the snuggling and the flossing of teeth and singing of songs. The list was constant today and I loved it. I have energy to do it all...but none to spare. As I tuck the last little body in bed and kiss a head of tousled hair, I close the door and walk into the kitchen to see the pile of dishes waiting patiently for me by the sink. That last bit of energy I used to bid goodnight to the kids now seems like a distant memory and I feel the Grumblings begin to rise up from deep down inside. The urge to complain, to fret, to maybe wash the dishes a little more loudly than is necessary, or to ignore them altogether and let Katie of Tomorrow deal with them (which, by the way, is usually a BAD IDEA). I swallow hard, take a deep breath, and drag myself to the sink. As I turn on Pandora and start the water, a low, somber cello begins to play the opening stanza to what turned out to be the perfect soundtrack to my slow and sleepy cleaning of the kitchen: Come Thou Fount. It was a beautiful cello solo and it echoed through my dark kitchen, while the words began to surface in my mind, thinking through every verse. How His kindness yet pursues me, Mortal tongue can never tell, Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me I cannot proclaim it well. I felt the Grumblings begin to settle as my frustration began to wane. O that day when freed from sinning, I shall see Thy lovely face; Clothed then in blood washed linen How I'll sing Thy sovereign grace. I am reminded that God gives us just enough grace for today...with new mercies awaiting in the morning. And He sings over us as that energy wanes, as our eyes close, as the day draws to an end. And His song never ends. Even late at night, in the kitchen. Have a lovely evening, friends.



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