All three of us had meltdowns, just before dinnertime, in the baking goods aisle in Publix. Aidan wanted to run up and down, weaving through moving shopping carts; Bubba was intent on picking up every stationary object within arm's reach. I was weary, and I was hungry too, and when Momma's hungry, ain't nobody happy. All of us trying to get our way resulted in all of us in tears.
Those jumbo bags of M&Ms suddenly looked mighty good. Same with those sugar cookies. That are ON SALE. Oh snap. Oh, and that pint of Ben & Jerry's...
I do that a lot: turn to food, or sleep, or some other comfort when things aren't going my way. I forget I can easily harness the power of the One who made all the Earth with a simple prayer.
I didn't realize that right away though. After I'd wrangled the kids through the checkout line, behind a woman intent on making small talk with the cashier while I struggled with the boys, trying to keep them from hitting each other; after we'd endured a tearful cart ride out to the car, arched backs and flailing limbs in the car seats; after I'd finally sat down in the driver's seat, bursting into tears and texting Jason (who was out at work and not due to come home until much, much later) "I CAN'T DO THIS"... after all of that, I stopped and offered a prayer: help me, Lord.
I'd love to tell you I had an instant moment of peace, the clouds parting, the sun streaming on my car, the kids calming, and my heart filled with the peace of God. Wouldn't that be an awesome, Chicken Soup for the Soul moment? (Do they even make those books anymore?) It didn't happen that way.
What did happen: I made it home. I did not go back into the store and buy out the candy aisle, as I was so tempted to do minutes before. I managed to make grilled cheese sandwiches and apples for the kids, and they did calm down eventually, watching Cars 2 and only occasionally getting upset at each other. I kept going. I made myself a healthy dinner that I know wouldn't leave me in an emotional tailspin of regret and carb overload. I sang a few songs under my breath from church this morning (much to the kids' dismay), got them dressed for bed and, eventually, actually in their beds. I still didn't reach for the Belgian chocolate ice cream, even when the house was quiet and I had a chance to breathe.
I took a moment to offer gratitude, something I've been really not good about doing lately. I was tired, worn out, emotionally spent... but I made it. I kept on. I wasn't completely consumed in the moment. I didn't give up, not on my kids, not on myself, not on everything.
Therein lies the quiet, subtle victory. That moment that I thought was going to do me in... didn't.
It's so easy for me to pray for help in life's big moments of darkness and need, but I forget to ask for help for the day-to-day, little moments when I just feel like I'm struggling through, not really doing anything well. So I'm ever thankful for these little reminders that God cares about the daily routine, the inbetween moments. He sustains me, He guides me. Even when I forget to ask.
Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3: 21-23
How are you learning to trust God with the small details? How has He revealed himself to you in quiet, tender ways?
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