The Manner In Which We Walk

I knelt by the side of my bed this morning, having shut the bedroom door ever so dramatically, just so I could have a moment in private.

I cried out. I laid bare my list of grievances. I wept and shared my frustration, worry, and my exhaustion with the LORD.

He listened kindly, of course, as on and on I went, telling Him what He already knew, bending his ear with my oblivious prattle.

But something happened there, as I lay despairing across the bed. Even as I secretly wished to be found in this posture, I knew I was behaving childishly. Even as I listed my annoyances, I knew I was reacting poorly to them. Even as I dripped tears of exhaustion, I was gently reminded of my choice, my desire to be a mama.

Every effort I made to feel sorry for myself was tenderly, yet firmly, rebutted.

I sat up and laughed aloud, thinking, “The days of genuinely feeling sorry for myself are over, aren’t they, Lord?”

I am no longer the nineteen year old bride, who called her mama when she was angry at her lover. (Mama firmly told her to stop calling, please, and talk to her own husband about it!) I am no longer the newlywed who carried her hurt feelings as a crown upon her brow. I am no longer unaware of the impact I have on those around me.

Today stretched ahead of me, not even filled with anything yet, but my mind had already taken me through and instantly resolved that this day was going to be simply awful.

The manner in which you walk will determine the day, Beloved, not its' events.

As I dashed the tears from my eyes, and laughed again at the woman-child who knew almost nothing of labor, love, or longing; I recalled a quote from Stepping Heavenward that speaks volumes to me, as I am one who runs from difficulty and uncertainty.

“Duty looks more repelling at a distance than when fairly faced and met.”

What is the best line of defense against a day that threatens to overtake you? Dive into the middle and fight for it! Lying prostrate across my bed, weeping, did not start the laundry, wash the dishes, teach the lessons, or cook the meals; nor did it begin to organize the sudden events I was running from. The good that did come from those moments were by the grace of God, and grace alone. In seeking Him, and yes, even being rebuked by Him, I was led to the water, and when I drank, I was renewed.

And so I stepped back into my life, from the dramatic stage of my bedroom. With new eyes I took in the simplicity of my days – feed, love, lead.

Imagine my wonder as I found the joy within me to jive to the rhythm of the clunky washing machine with my baby, who finds all things bumping to be delightful.

Imagine the thrill as I heard myself call my husband back to kiss me at the sink before he left.

And imagine my pleasure as I witnessed the lightening of my children’s countenance, when they realized that Mama was again present, and she was content.

Now imagine His pleasure all the more!

The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing. Zephaniah 3:17

I was quieted, and He saved me.

And the day that nearly mastered me? It is over and gone. But as I kissed my children's brows while they slept, this one time; oh this once, I was at peace with the day.

And a new one begins tomorrow. Come with me.