I'm tired, run down. All the activity looks good on Facebook: 6 doctor appointments in one day, seeing all 7 kids on others, doing anything from checking on a baby horse Michael delivered to racing down the drag strip with Mike. When I posted that, in 24 hours, Mike had been flung by a tornado, Miranda had broken her leg at work, and Melody had had a seizure waking up from oral surgery, I got a lot of prayer and concern comments. My first thought was I hadn't gotten my point across that this is pretty predictable for us.
As the days have gone by, I've been hoping those prayers are still in play. Because often it isn't the event that's as cataclysmic as the fallout is, the upheaval of daily routine. Now, sometimes it's God moving us out of our comfort zones, but oftentimes it's the devil removing us from the discipline of Godly living.
When I'm "running," there's less sleep, more caffeine, whatever food, a disorderly house, more acne, less exercise, more haze, less accountability, more irritability, and more importantly - less intimacy, on every level with everybody. I have an actual list of times when the distraction of exhaustion led to life altering circumstances in our family.
So, I've learned to guard the fundamentals, to rid anything that isn't essential, to welcome the cleansing fire. Since we've moved back in together in March, we have been careful not to reintroduce things that don't matter, clutter of any kind. I have learned during the separation to take things directly to the Lord for his approval or disapproval. "Seeming good" is no longer good enough. I want answers. I want God.
You know what it is on these busy days? I realized it crying in the shower while ago. In only a matter of days, I miss my Father. I miss waking up talking to Him and lingering there. I miss studying His word with great intention and wonder. I miss finding His will so neatly pieced together, in the little things throughout the day and conversations. I know these things can and should happen regardless, but there is something about home, something about not being in a rush every morning, something about looking forward to how I might please my Lord by pleasing my husband, something about sharing my God with my children in all things, something about knowing what's going on at home, something about having time to maintain and feel like a woman, something about pulling things together for a meal, something about sitting in the sun or watering the plants. There is life in these things.
When I get led away from home, something begins to die; everything begins to die. That was part of the unraveling of last summer. I remember vividly lying down in complete and sheer exhaustion the afternoon before our 28th anniversary, even posting the song, "Worn." After all, in the prior month alone, McKala had delivered twins and Melody had had brain surgery, among other things. That day my life spun out of control, much because of distance and disillusionment.
So, I've seen up close and personal that, "The thief cometh not but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: ...," the very fiber of family, by dividing out, one by one, and by throwing off attentions so that yet another might be lost.
But God ... but God continues, " ...I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly." (John 10:10.)
