It's been quite a tiring past couple of weeks! We had a great Sunday the weekend before Thanksgiving surprising Kenny for his birthday (more on that in a later post), but it was truthfully downhill from there! We started with yucky, coughing sinus fever type stuff and despite all my best efforts, it went through the entire house the whole week of Thanksgiving. By the weekend it seemed we were finishing all our sickness up, and by Sunday night and Monday every single one of us just hit rock bottom. Long story short...all the kids to the doctor (which I avoid at all cost!) and Kenny and me sick as well. 3 nights straight E and Z (our littlest two) were up crying the entire night, which is, as many of you know, so difficult and exhausting, especially when you're sick yourself. Then daytime hours come, and there is no such thing as calling in sick. Maintaining a household of 8 doesn't just happen by itself, and if anything the demands go up instead of down during sick times.
Now, I am not writing all of this for the sake of complaint or even pity. I'm guessing I'm not the only one reading this post that can relate to what I'm talking about on some level. All I know is how now coming up on almost 2 weeks straight of sickness in this house, I AM WEARY! I am tired to the bone! I had my moment of tears yesterday, where I just had to lay on my face in my room and say, "Lord, I am exhausted. I have nothing left in me. I need You to help me." Ever feel that way? Man, I do. It's times like these that I know the Lord is continuing the process of chipping away at me and getting me a baby step closer to who He created me to be in the first place. Being a mama is hard...harder than I can ever describe. It's more amazing than I could ever put into words, but any woman would be lying to say it isn't the hardest job on the face of the planet! Ever since my very first, I can see how God uses these precious little ones to mold and shape US more and more into who we are to be. (don't we often think of it just the other way around?) Getting up in the night with little ones and nursing them, rocking them, or giving them medicine over and over when you don't FEEL like it again and again requires something of you that you didn't know you had in you before. I always feel like that each time I have a newborn, and you know, "Ok, here we go...days and days and weeks of going without sleep, getting up to feed, changing diapers while you're half asleep yourself, and getting up and going full force the next day with the other kids who slept wonderfully last night and have no idea that you feel like you've been hit by a semi-truck. All the while, you're supposed to still cook meals, clean house, do laundry, look somewhat presentable, and be somewhat pleasant for your dear husband, children, and friends. If anything in the world made me start the process of getting rid of self, it was becoming a mama! Would I trade it in a heartbeat? You must be kidding. Not a chance. This poor body of mine isn't tiny anymore, and my hair isn't flowing and long like it once was before all the hormones kicked in. I don't always have the energy I once had, and I sometimes feel like we look like a really bad reality show, despite our genuine attempts to teach and train our children. Regardless, I know that it's right. Nothing's ever been more right. I love how it never fails, the moment I feel like I'm at my absolute last ounce of strength, one of my little ones gives me a big smile or kiss. One of my guys grabs me and tells me how much they love me or says something to make my heart just melt. In those moments I am reminded what it's all about.
I'll end with a story about my twins, who are now 8 years old. At the time, I had 4 children, all boys, and all 6 years old and younger. The twins were little guys, still in diapers. It was the middle of football season, which for us is just incredibly busy. Kenny's works tremendous hours, and we didn't have family living around at all. Well, for whatever reason, these 2 little guys decide to start this lovely new habit of removing their diapers and smearing the contents all over everything in sight...I know, absolutely disgusting! (As Kenny said back then, "even a dog knows not to play in it's own poop! What's wrong with them?!") The crazy thing is they somehow were able to both fill their diapers at the same time and no matter how many layers of clothes I put on them, no matter how hard I tried to listen in while they were playing in their cribs, they would manage to do this over and over. This went on for days and weeks. Now, keep in mind, I was homeschooling a 5 and 6 year old all day, too, along with chasing these little twin monkeys around all day long! Let's just say, I definitely reached "weary" mode! One day I put the twins in their room to play for just a few minutes, and when I returned, you guessed it...poop city! EVERYWHERE! All over the carpet, walls, and ofcourse, all over them. You also have to realize, this had happened day after day for weeks. How in the world did these little jokers manage to do this much damage in just a very few minutes?! I was holding back tears, taking 2 little ones to the bathtub to clean up...again, trying to keep my older 2 boys out of the mess. After bathing them, I went back to their room with my cleaning supplies and got down on my hands and knees, scrubbing the mess off of the carpets. Needless to say, I wasn't looking very lovely myself. I had on my oversized t-shirt and shorts, hair pulled up on top of my head, no makeup. Here I am scrubbing up this mess and somehow in my mind thinking, "I didn't sign up for all this!" All I ever wanted to be my entire life was a mommy. I wanted a bunch of children and wanted to be a mommy. Let me assure you, this was NOT what I had envisioned all those years! I sat there on my knees cleaning, and as clearly as I've ever heard the audible voice of God, I heard Him say, "Shannon, this is what you're here for." What?! Seriously, that's it? I hear the audible voice of God more evidently than I ever have before, and THIS is what He says? Again, "Shannon, THIS is what you're here for." I stopped right there, and now, in tears of joy, I thanked Him. Yes. It's not about ME. I was put on this earth to glorify God. I am His servant. I never minded standing on a stage singing His praise serving Him, but this was dirty work. It was hard. It required something of me that I didn't think I had in me before. I say this, not pridefully, but thankfully...I finished scrubbing up that mess through my tears, telling my Lord that I loved Him. That this was my act of worship to Him. Our LIFE is our act of worship. The way I love on those children in the moments they aren't so lovable, or the way I do the most menial of tasks in the quiet of my home that no one sees but Him. He sees my heart. He loves me and is growing me right where I am. He receives that worship and is glorified.
I wish I could tell you that I have had perfect success keeping my focus ever since that day. Obviously, I haven't. However, I will tell you this. I can never forget the truth of what the Lord taught me that day. It is a choice. I can't control what circumstances come my way, but I can choose how I react to them. Dying to self. Isn't that what following Jesus really looks like anyway? Ironically, by being willing to die, I then have real life. Real life and joy in my children, in my husband, in my friends and even strangers. Real life in my Lord. All of a sudden there is purpose in every single trivial circumstance of life. It all matters. "The joy of the Lord is my strength."
