Last night I hit a bit of a low. It’s winter; it’s (very nearly almost) post-Christmas; we’ve got a bad case of cabin fever.
Still. Why can they be creative and neat?
So I ate.
And I ate.
And I ate and I ate and I ate and I ate.
Feeling dull (mentally) and thick (physically), I crawled into bed at 7:00 p.m. “I simply cannot handle making supper,” I told John, “and so I’ve dictated the recipe for pancakes to Cate. ”
And yet…and yet…something happened then—something electric, something unexpected. Cate thrilled to the thought of cooking supper. She bounded off with her paper in hand and set to work with John overseeing.
“She likes the responsibility, you know.” My husband’s eyes were twinkling as he stopped by the bedroom with a progress report. “And you look really cute, for what it’s worth.”
(I had crawled into bed with my makeup still on and had the covers pulled up around my head.)
(And for what it’s worth, it meant a lot.)
Angela poked her head in the doorway and saw—not the pathetic beached whale of an overeating, overtaxed mom but rather, a Golden Opportunity. “Will you read me a book?” she asked, already climbing in beside me.
Felicity overheard this request from her bedroom and was there in a flash with me in the middle. Mom in the Middle: that’s us, isn’t it? So I read them the book that I’d found the day before—Little Polar Bear and the Whales—and it was magic the way that they loved it, loved me.
I fell asleep—face unwashed but at peace—and I woke up at 2:00 a.m., fully rested. What a difference a few hours can make! I’m thinking it’s actual grace at work and for that, I am grateful—truly and deeply grateful.
I think—no, I know—I can tackle today.
There but by the grace of God go me.