Though...

"Why can't you guys just pick up after yourselves?  Why do you have to keep making these messes?  Why?"  I screamed at my kids while trying to stop the tears from pouring. 

Too late, the salty drops came unbidden to my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. 

Why do I always blame my kids?  Why can't I just hold it together?  Why do I feel so powerless?  Mornings...oh, mornings.  Why can't I manage to get us all out the door and to the school on time?

"Mommy, why are you crying," questioned my 9 year old autistic son. 

"I'm sorry Mommy,"  pacified my 8 year old nurturing daughter.

My 6 and almost 5 year olds were silent as they looked questioningly at each other.

Why do I let my screaming get the better of me?  When will I learn to use a gentle voice when I'm feeling stressed and frustrated? 

"See, you are Bad Mom,"  whispered that voice that I know so well.  That voice that is so ugly and hateful.  That voice which takes over when I"m struggling in my own power.  That voice is mine.  But somewhere in my heart, nearly drowned out by the tears and the ugliness is the voice that speaks honey to my soul. 

That voice whispers to me, "You are not Bad Mom.  Lori, I have redeemed you, I have called you by name.  Child you are mine, and I call you Free."

After dropping my kids off at school I found a quiet place in my heart and I just stopped and listened to that whispering voice until it was all I could hear. 

"Lori, I have redeemed you.  You are Free.  You are mine.  You are learning to be Good Mom.  You are so precious to me.  Let me be your strength, let me be your joy.  When you can't do it anymore, let Me.  I want you to learn to give it to me before it becomes too much for you.  Let me take it.  Surrender your control and let me be in charge."

"I love you, Mommy," smiled my 4 year old daughter from the back seat. 

"Me too sweetie."  I answered.


 Paraphrase of Malachi 3:17-19

Though my kids make messes and continually forget to pick them up;
Though I have no answers for my friend who's kids are just so sick,
Though I feel as everyone has forgotten me,
Though there is no money in my bank account and no hope of more to come for a while,
 I will choose the joy of my Lord.
I will look to God and be glad in my salvation. 
The Lord, is my strength and my stronghold. 
He lifts my head, he calms my heart, he wipes my tears, he holds my hand
and leads me beside still waters and He carries my burden.