This Lenten season is rocking me. It's emptying me. It's challenging me and stretching me.
Naturally, one week (and some) into this journey and I'm struggling.
On the one hand, all things fasting related, I'm coping well enough. I feel my little sacrifices here and there slowly but surely emptying me from the inside out. Literally. I can sense that each time I say no to something I am saying yes to something greater. Someone greater.
With each stand I grow stronger and it is so very encouraging.
With every small offering another little fiat is said.
All encouraging. All hard.
And yet, all that can be scrambled into a hazy fog of crazy real quick for this little soldier trying to carry on.
Tack on two doctors appointments in one week (...and that's not counting the other two doctors visits we had just
two weeks ago.) and you can see just how disfigured my face can get real
I mean. These boys
I love them. I do. So very very very very very very
do they have to touch every. single. little. inch.
of the waiting room only to enter the actual visit room to proceed to again
touch every. single. little. infected. area
that could possibly be touched.
Then. With these same hands they wipe their faces and their runny noses before I can get out my tissue for them. Then they proceed to touch me
and all other things possible with all
the germs they managed to acquire in .2 seconds FLAT.
And that's not even including the germs and random mystery limp we came in with. The very things that have my mama-heart in knots.
So, yes. Hazy fog of crazy.
Like I said, I love these boys.
And it pains me that we have had to make these two visits. I hurt when they are sick. My heart struggles to balance loving compassion and charity along side the inevitable emotional and physical fatigue that my tired self meets every time some sort of illness makes its way into our home.
But as a mother, I carry on. One foot in front of the other. Wiping the noses, taking the temperatures, keeping them hydrated, snuggling, reading, holding, feeding, caring, worrying, on and on and on. I carry on. One little way at a time.
I wish I didn't meet this bit of motherhood with all the grumbles you can imagine. I really do.
I wish I didn't make it all about me. But, there's sin. And there's me. And where sin and I meet. It's all about me.
...you get the picture.
I have to remind myself that it is not I that I draw my strength from, but Him.
It is not my will I should desire, but His. I have to remind myself that He sanctifies my little efforts. That He, and He alone can help me carry my little crosses.
And even though it is sooooooo hard to do it while in the moment, I really am trying.
Trying not to worry. Trying not to stress. Trying not to be prideful. Trying not to make everything about me. Trying to think outside of myself and turn towards Him and my family. Trying to embrace my vocation. The very same vocation that will bring me back to Him whom my soul longs for.
At the end of this crazy week filled with a mystery limp, fevers, and doctors appointments, I am so glad I took these pictures!
There are lots of bright sides to celebrate here!
First bright side, they did have a blast playing with their dinosaurs, looking out the windows, and playing lunchtime while we waited an entire
Second and most important bright side, the doctor believes that Linus' fever is unrelated to his mystery limp (Thank you, Lord!) and that we should just keep monitoring him. She felt his limp had lessened from one day to the next (And still is, thankfully!) and that he probably caught a new virus that was just starting to show itself (No, thank you. But I'll take it!).
After all this, another lesson learned. Again. Trust in Him.
My mom told me to stop worrying and to trust. My husband encouraged me not to worry. To be present. I could hear Sister Kathleen in the back of my mind saying that His plans are such a gift to us if we just let Him love us!
It is so hard for me to remember to seek Him in my times of troubles. It's hard to remember His 40 days spent in a dessert. His Cross. His Wounds. His Death. It's hard to remember that He knows this struggle. So much so He died on a Cross so that someday we would never have to know these pains again. All for love us.
My beloved Jesus, Your face was beautiful before You began this journey; but, now, it no longer appears beautiful and is disfigured with wounds and blood. Alas, my soul also was once beautiful when it received Your grace in Baptism; but I have since disfigured it with my sins. You alone, my Redeemer, can restore it to its former beauty. Do this by the merits of Your passion; and then do with me as You will."
~St Alphonsus Liguori
It's hard to remember, but I'm thankful for moments of grace and late night ramblings to help me see that He alone can restore me.
If you stuck around for all the ramblings, you're amazing!
How has He been meeting you while on your Lenten journey? I'd love to know. Has it been obvious? Gentle? Hard? Walking along side you? Ahead of you encouraging you on? or Behind you nudging you along?
No matter how He has been meeting you during this season, I pray we all take heart and remember that He is with us.