Today was one of those days. One of those days I didn't think I would live to see the end. One of those days I cried out to Jesus just to make it. And the most frustrating part for me was that I had such great hopes and expectations of the day.
I wanted today to be special for my husband. He is the best father to our children I could have imagined. I wanted him to have a restful, relaxing, fun day with his family.
I wanted today to be special for my baby boy, who was dedicated this morning at church. It was supposed to be his special time.
Instead, we arrived at church late, thinking it better for our very miserable teething and sick little boy to continue his nap (since he was finally actually napping) and just make it for the dedication, scheduled for later in the service. Lauren started sobbing hysterically when we dropped her off with Megan in the toddler room. Right as the dedication service was starting, we were informed that there is no nursery for the service. How do Daddy and Mommy take baby Michael up to the platform to get dedicated if no one is there to watch two toddler girls who are both fussing and crying? Daddy holds a toddler on each arm, Mommy holding baby. I was so busy trying to keep the girls quiet during the prayer, I don't even know what was said. This breaks my heart. My son was dedicated to the Lord, and I don't even know what was prayed for him. Of course, I also wanted a picture to remember the special time; in my mind, a picture of Daddy and Mommy praying over Michael, showing just how special this little boy is to us. No picture was taken at all. Daddy had to leave the service with the girls. After the service, family pictures had to be taken for the church directory. That was a real treat. Forced smiles from Daddy and Mommy, both bouncing a sad baby or two.
At this point, I'm doing all I can do hold it together. "Lord, I need you. Lord, I need you. You promised you wouldn't give me more than I can handle, and I'm NOT handling this. You promised, and I need you." We made it to the van before I started sobbing, and I hear Megan's sweet voice ask from the back of the van, "Mama, you ok?"
Hours and hours pass, lots of temper tantrums are thrown, lots of discipline sessions are administered, lots of tears cried, and lots of silent prayers are thrown at the feet of Jesus. It is now 8:30 pm. The girls are finally sleeping. I am talking to my sweet baby boy, telling him how special he is to me, that I love him with all my heart. He smiles, chubby cheeks spouting those ridiculous dimples of his. He coos, laughs, and shrieks with delight when I kiss his cheeks and touch my nose to his. We made it, just like God promised.
"Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." - Isaiah 41:10
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