Wednesday, March 2, 2016


I woke first to the sound of ice rain hitting the roof.  As I rolled over my eyes flew open from the pain burning at the base of my neck. I must have slept wrong.  Again.  Now my eyes are wide awake staring at the ceiling listening to the recently more common sound of bickering brothers.  My mind is full of discontentment. I have no interest in starting the fire, feeding the chickens, or even making a cup of coffee, much less parenting, teaching or speaking at all.  Most of all I miss my husband.  It's mornings like these that he would drag me out of bed just to wrap his huge arms around me, giving me all the strength I need to conquer the day ahead of me.  Only seven weeks left to go before he's back home.

So with no desire to get out of bed, I began my morning ritual of making a daily plan:
Start the coffee pot.
Rekindle the fire.
Have the boys fill the wood box.
Remind them to eat breakfast.
Give the chicks fresh water.
Pour a cup of the freshly made coffee.
Close the wood stove door.
Tell the boys now is the time to get there energy out before school.
Sit with said cup of coffee while reading my Bible.
Start school.
Have lunch.
Finish school.
Let boys play wild and free in the basement.
Make supper.
Tidy the kitchen.
Skype our Strong man.
Put the boys to bed.
Hope for 45 minutes of quite.
Talk with my Husband.
Go to bed.

To start, I will my sore body to move, staggering to the bathroom and then down stairs to live out this simple routine.  Only today, my fuse is short so when the boys begin the normal how much wood is enough wood conversation I speak a little to harshly.  I fight with the logs to burn, bringing the fire back to life three times before I finally convince it to heat the house.  I forget about the coffee sitting fresh in the pot and begin pricing out a new phone, something I've put off for far to long.  The boys bicker, one brother ate the wrong muffin.  I ignore it waiting to see if they will work it out themselves.  When I do remember my coffee it's stale, and time to start school.  Keeping school simple, surviving the day quickly becomes the goal.  We start off with me reading to them, a thing that on a normal day they both love, but today is not normal.  I quickly find one boys feet resting on my shoulder while the other boy has just walked out of the room and ignores me when I ask where he is going.  I ask three times where he is going on the third I yell his name.  This time he responds with sharp defensive tones in his voice completely unaware that it is him who has been disrespectful in his practice of ignoring his Mama.  I am tired as school comes to an end but somehow still isn't completed...And then we rewind.

A saving grace in this family.  A time when one of us has reacted poorly and is given the chance to rewind and start that phrase, that action, that entire moment over.  A habit we've learned not invented ourselves.  Because isn't that what Saving Grace is all about?
For the doer - A fresh start.  A new beginning.  A changing of ways.
For the receiver - Forgiving.  Letting go.  Allowing a rewind.

With the fire burning and the sky grey the boys play Lego's while I sit with a hot cup of tea and read my Bible with the sound of gentle music playing in the back ground.  This time there is no bickering.

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