Amazing how snow makes everything seem better. Suddenly the children who haven’t wanted to go outside for weeks are clamoring to go out. Of course they have me help them to bundle up, then go out for ten minutes and then come back in and have to be unbundled and then want to go back out again fifteen minutes later. Still, they are going out!
Yesterday while everyone else, including me, was napping Bella went out on her own. After naps we all went out in the twilight for half an hours recreation before dinner. Today they’ve been in and out and in and out. How lovely their rosy cheeks and cheerful demeanor. Truly I don’t mind the pile of boots and coats and snowpants and hats and mittens and wet clothes by the back door. I don’t mind the melting puddles and the mess because the snow makes everything brighter.
Even when it is overcast, the day isn’t as dark because the snow magnifies the light. Even though it is cold, somehow it feel a bit warmer.
Then a special treat. My sister had the day off today and woke up early (for her) to watch the children while I went off to run a few last-minute Christmas errands, getting candy and some odds and ends of gifts. I even found some maternity shirts for myself on sale, 50% off, at Kohl’s. A little present I didn’t mind splurging on. I grabbed some eggnog and chocolate bars and treated myself and my sister to lattes from the Starbucks at Target. It felt so lovely to go out shopping on my own without having to keep track of three wandering little ones, without being bombarded with questions and demands for snacks. When I got home there was a big pile of boxes the UPS guy had left by the front door.
My sister went off for an afternoon with a friend and the children are napping now. Ah peace! I’m going to go curl up in bed to finish my coffee and read my book and enjoy the feeling of being done with shopping.
Oh gosh, me too! I can get physically so overstimulated! I have always felt bad about it, too. How I wish I was one of those snuggly content mamas. All I really want to do is go to my room and be alone. But of course, I can’t do that. I have found that with a little effort, I can find find joy in observing my children, joy in speaking with them and over the course of the eight of them, the snuggling has gotten easier. With our current baby, I actually enjoy it from the beginning! Praying is the same for me too. Quite relieving to read that I am not alone!! Thanks!
I enjoy cuddles and other than trying to type around them or keeping them from grabbing my iphone off my desk or trying to hit my computer with a pen, I don’t mind them sitting in my lap. Honestly, what I can’t stand is being forced to creatively play with them. I’m just so terrible at it and all I can think of are all the other things I could be doing. But I’m digressing.
This week my prayers mostly disappeared. I spent most of Thursday in the ER with my dad. By Sunday I was doing laundry and taking care of a sick little girl and that continued until yesterday. Even when I wasn’t cleaning up throw up or trying to keep Elizabeth from climbing on top of a sick sister, I was feeling emotionally drained. Even today I can easily break down crying just from the pregnancy hormones and feeling overwhelmed. Reflecting earlier today about my shambles of any formal prayer, it was easy to feel like a failure and feel like I had neglected God, and of all weeks when I needed His help too.
But then He reminded me that, when I was caring for the sick and doing all that I was being called to do in the last week, I wasn’t neglecting Him, I was caring for Him. “Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers…” “When I was ill, you cared for me.” No, my formal prayer life hadn’t been what it should be, but in those moments when you are being what He is calling you to be for others, you ARE praying because you are doing what He asks you to do. So when you let your children cuddle with you even when you aren’t up for it, you are praying.
One thing I am still learning to recognize is all the ways we can pray. It is amazing how many ways God gives us.
As a 68 y.o whose children long ago left home, I can attest to the fact that this business of distraction during prayer time
is about as bad for me at this stage in life as it was years ago when I really DID have distracting things going on all around me.
I had thought that by this age I would be a totally spiritually evolved human being, but, alas, I am still the same old me. If this is not a lesson in self-acceptance, and in the reality that God loves and forgives in spite of our shortcomings (In prayer and all other areas of life) then I don’t know what is.
Despite being the introvert to end all introverts, I have a pretty high tolerance for touch.
It’s the TALKING that gets to me. Because they expect you to respond, and sometimes I have no earthly clue what to say.
(It’s not even being asked stuff like “Why do you wear [a chapel veil]?” “Why does Jesus have blood on him?” “Is his name really Father?” [To which the answers are, “I’ll explain later,” “Don’t run into those people,” and “No, his name is Daniel, but we call him Father because he takes care of us like…um, like a father.” To a child who doesn’t even really know who her father is, so I’m not sure how that analogy worked.] It’s the “Pink Panther did X Y Z” sort of comments that get to me. REALLY? That’s FASCINATING.)
Oh, Melanie. Yes. The touch has been getting better for me recently, but I have to agree with the Sojourner: the TALKING kills me. As Miriam and Bella head into older childhood, it NEVER STOPS. Prayer distraction is so similar—can the words just stop? Which is ironic, since I think the Psalms and epistles are just about the most beautiful words ever written… sigh. Merry Christmas to you and yours: may you enjoy some silence this octave week!