tender mercies 'a-ha' moment?
I had one of those moments the other night and I find myself sitting here typing as a wave of gratitude and contentment washes over me. The odd thing is I never imagined that Levi's and a cap of All Small 'n' Mighty would do that.
After putting the kids to bed one night, I turned on iTunes and started working on laundry. The jean load from earlier in the day hadn't finished drying so I brought it upstairs and hung them over the railing in the living room to dry. I didn't think much of it until I sat down for a few minutes on the couch and stared at my impromptu clothes line. Stretched across the railing were six slightly damp, lived-in pairs of jeans for each of the kids:
The dark wash, carpenter fit jeans for Dylan, my miracle baby. The baby I pled with the Lord for. The child I waited through three years and two miscarriages for. The child I lost to austism at 18 months and the eight-year-old who returns to me more and more everyday. My compassionate, helpful, funny kid with an engineer's mind and a servant's heart. My kid who loves X-rays, Thomas and Herbie cars and can't wait to start soccer and basketball.
The light wash, loose fit pair for Cameron, my future action hero, mad scientist, race car driver and fighter pilot rolled into one. My brillant comic book artist and cardboard box engineer. My amazing little boy who picked up the alphabet at 17 months, recognized different airplanes at age three and had his first book sale in the front yard when he was six. My jet powered, tree-climbing, project-loving, theme-song singing, blanket-fort-building Cam'enke.
The slim fit, boot-cut jeans for my beautiful Sa'My with the blonde hair, black curly lashes and a sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks. My bubbly, silly, crazy-imaginative five-year-old who loves kitties and puppies and cheetahs and jaguars and duckies and ponies and princesses. My sensitive, loving, toothless Kindergartener wonder who loves rainbows and treats and her family.
The hand-me-down carpenter jeans for Kadester, my nutcase. My kid who loves Wall-e and Geo-o Trax and watching Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer in September. My kid who loves our kitty Leo because he's the fluffiest and performs a rousing rendition of Once Their Was A Snowman. My kid who announced out of no where that “Mom, sometimes I bite trees.” My laid back, silly-face-making, goofy-talking, park-loving, stick-figure-drawing, name-spelling, four-year-old wunderkin.
The paint stained 3T pair for Seanry, my sweet little creep. My pseudo preemie who still loves to be snuggled and hugged and carried around like the baby he no longer is. My little boy who yells "Ta Da!" when he gets his seat belt on ...or says prayer... or eats breakfast... or gets dressed ... or picks up a cat. My smiley, train-toting, Thomas-loving, cat-wrangling, pop-stealing, clothes-shedding, running, jumping, bouncing kid. My little boy who is finally finding his voice and is determined to keep up with the big kids.
And there was the emroidered boot-cut toddler jeans for Ashy, my one last miracle, my Angel Baby and Growley Girl. My liquid sunshine baby who is always, always happy. My baby who at almost fourteen months, isn't really a baby anymore. My amazing little girl who was walking by eight months, going down stairs by twelve months and can say, "What mom" when I call her. My beautiful little Sweet Girl who cocks her head to the side every time she sees a camera and says, “cheeeeeessssse.”
In that load of wash was everything.
My everything.
All of the sudden I felt horrible for being so irritated lately about the never-ending piles of laundry and toys and cereal and messes and clean-up that seem to follow me around.
I asked for this. I asked for every bit of this.
For years I begged the Lord to take away my 'reproach among women' and let me be a mother. And he listened and blessed me with not one or two but six of his precious spirits when some of my best friends never where. I wanted to have my own home to raise my children in and he listened and he blessed me with one. And despite a year of layoffs and lost income, he has opened the door and poured our miracle after miracle so that we still have that home.
I suddenly understood that my trials - my burdens - where really the tangible signs that God knows exactly who I am and where I'm at - that he listens and answers prayers - that I’m not afflicted or forgotten - that I’m loved and cherished and abundantly blessed.
Just look at my laundry piles.
