Dear Mama,
Did you have one of those days? You know, one when far too many proverbial straws pile onto your camel back before it is even 10 a.m.and you falter, then fall, feeling broken?
When you cannot hold back tears of frustration, sadness, and even anger at yourself and your own ineptness?
When you wipe those tears away, hoping no one will notice them, but they are noticed anyway - by the evil one, but - praise God - also by Him and those He has given especially to you to love and be loved by.
Today was that day for me.
So many earthly things have been piling up - broken computers, a long lost phone, health concerns, insurance battles, tax prep hurdles, missing files, behavior bumps, piled clutter, looming deadlines, short sleep...
Straw upon straw upon straw...
Until the weight bore down and something had to give...
My stomach began a visceral cry. My eyes welled and refused to be dammed.
Silent tears pushed forth, begging for release, but bringing a torrent of emotion to the surface.
Frustration.
Sadness.
Anger at my own ineptitude.
Feeling like I was drowning.
I tried to fight the current of negativity, but the evil one had already noted it and begun to whisper taunts and lies.
I knew it was him, so I bit back my tears. But, I could not stop crying. So I cried out.
I called upon God to help me keep hopelessness at bay.
I went into the bathroom, took a breath, and began to brush my teeth, feeling bolstered, knowing I was about to go to participate in Mass, where grace abounds.
The tears ceased.
But, then, I looked in the mirror and, that evil one. He was refusing to be ousted. He distorted what I saw, and, again, the tears began to fall in steady, silent rivulets down my cheeks.
I was so tired before the day had even gotten too far underway and that evil one was causing me to see only what was wrong.
But, he could not win.
A child quietly entered the bathroom,. came up behind me, wrapped me in a quick hug, and, then departed.
Then, another child entered, offered another quick hug, and left, before a third child did the same.
Even though I felt anything but lovable, I was being loved.
God wanted me to know I was loved and my husband - who is not always the most expressive guy - did, too.
As I walked out of the bathroom, he I walked right into his waiting arms.
Unusual.
And meaningful.
I said thank you and apologized for my tears and ineptness before we headed off to Mass.
Then, as we walked from the parking lot to the church, my daughter bounce-stepped alongside me, smiling widely, singing that she loved me, pointing out daffodils and crocuses, making every extra effort she could in a matter of mere minutes to cheer me by sharing the beauty of creation all around us.
I breathed, smiled, thanked her, and told her I loved her, too.
Then, I walked into Mass hoping no one would notice my still-red eyes.
Minutes later, settled in a pew, I knelt to pray, looked up at a stained glass image of Jesus on the cross, then down to a crucifix, and at the tabernacle, and the tears began to fall again. Silently, surreptitiously, I wiped them with a sleeve.
Jesus. On the cross.
I knew He was there, crucified, in part because or me, yet there He remains with arms outstretched, ready to embrace me through His sacrificial love. His mercy. His grace.
He was there and is here.
I begged His forgiveness. I silently shared my burdens.gave thanks for mercy. And I wept.
Silently, I wept.
Then, as I went to wipe my tears again, I glanced sideways and noticed my youngest's big blue eyes looking up to me.
Oh, Mama, what are you doing to him? I chided myself. He does not need to witness your tears. He needs to see you joy-filled. You are at Mass. You are next to a beautiful child, surrounded by angels, embraced in love. Stop being self-centered. Comfort him and then be comforted by our Lord, focusing on Him.
I smiled through my tears, leaned over for a moment, kissed my child on his forehead, mouthed "I love you" before turning back to the altar, knowing that I am loved...
After Mass, the day continued with ups and downs, blessings and burdens, healing moments and some more unexpected hurdles...
Many straws. Just straws.
And, yes, some tears. More tears.
But, more importantly: grace.
An encouraging word from a friend.
A child who offered to make meals, so I could concentrate on some other things.
A husband quietly washing a mountain of dishes and taking time with our children.
A family walk.
A child taking my hand and squeezing it three times in succession - our silent code for "I. love. you."
A perfectly timed moment of grace sent every time the evil one's tempting lies began to taunt me too strongly.
And, so, here I am as the day closes, tired.
Oh so tired. With plenty of straws still piled up, but no more tears slipping down.
Just thanks.
So much thanks.
Grateful for grace given me by God through those He gifts me with.
Mama, if you, too, are having one of those days, don't let the devil get too far. Call upon the Lord and rest assured - in one way or another, through one person or another - He will drive the lies away and help you see the blessings of the day even amidst its burdens.
Truly, Mama, if it's one of those days, it's okay to cry.
Just cry out to Him.
He loves you.
You are loved.
Signed
Grateful for Love
