Have you ever had one of those mornings when you just wanted to go back to bed and pull the covers over your head? Of course you have. I mean, none of us are perfect, right?
We had one of those mornings in the Witt household today. In my family, I am the self-proclaimed “peacemaker.” By self-proclaimed I mean that without me, the fireworks and arguing would continue until there were mass casualties; be that physically, emotionally or mentally. Feelings get hurt, pride rears it’s ugly head and sometimes harsh words are spoken. Siblings fight, parents argue, even the dogs get involved on a daily basis. And so usually, “Mother Hen” (thats me) swoops in and saves the day. I know that when my husband calls me by this title, it is definitely not a term of endearment. But, guess what? I chose to make it a title of honor and I am considering getting a blinged out shirt to wear so that anyone who needs my mother hen services will feel comfortable asking for them. I would most definitely begin every session by reminding everyone involved that words hurt and once spoken, cannot be sucked back in and swallowed. Food for thought, right?
Though it’s been a festive Christmas season, things have been a bit tense at times around the Witt homestead. My oldest son is home from college and at the ripe old age of 22, seems to think he knows everything. He’s an “adult” now and should be treated as such. The fleshy part of me wants to belly laugh and bill him for his cell phone, insurance, etc. But, alas, I will not and patiently wait for the day when he has his own 22 year old son who thinks he knows it all. Oh, won’t that be sweet revenge, um I mean reality. (Insert evil laugh here.)
After the fireworks and waterworks this morning, I retired to my room to regain my sanity and I will admit, had a brief pity party. Thankfully, I sold my shares of the winery, so I kept my wits about me. (Pun intended.) I had a cry, more like a hysterical sob and thought about who I could call in this crisis situation that would make me feel better and validate the way I was feeling. Well, no one RSVP’d to my party, so I cried out to God. “Why is this happening? How come I don’t have parents who love me to walk me through crappy situations? What have I done to deserve this? I’m sick of this, God!” A lot more was said, but you get the idea.
I think I must have just tuckered myself out with all of the crying and dialoging because I finally just laid on my bed and listened for God to answer me. “Well, God. I’m waiting.” Ya, let’s not be sassy with God. “Okay, Lord. I love you and I know that You love me. Please walk me through what to do here. I want to do it Your way because mine doesn’t work.” Instant peace. I’m not even kidding. Total peace and comfort. Hmmm…
I glanced over at my nightstand and low and behold, was my daily devotional for spiritual warfare. I turned to December 27th and read the message and the prayer. The scripture covered Isaiah 40:1-5,11 and though I read it all and every word applied to the way I was feeling, one part really saturated my heart. “But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength’ they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.”
Wait. What? My pity party was unnecessary? My God will renew my strength, as long as I seek him first and not try to do everything on my own and in my own power? I already knew this, but somehow in the chaos of the morning, I shut God out and thought I could do it better on my own. Imagine how much more smoothly my household would have run and how much less exhausting my Mother Hen session would have been had I allowed God to work through me. Wow. Yes, I want to run and not grow weary; I mean after all, being married to Ken, having four kids and teaching full time has me in a constant marathon. I need my Heavenly Father and not just when I’m in full meltdown mode. It’s time to be proactive in the Word and not reactive to life. Oh, that’s good; maybe even blinged out t-shirt status good.
Good talk, Lord. Thanks. So, with a smile on my face and my Christmas pajamas and messy hair in place, I proceeded to walk down the hall and pour a cup of coffee. I was refreshed, renewed and rejuvenated. Chisholm remarked that I looked “a lot better” and I told him that Jesus and I had a meeting and it went well. He just smiled and said, “That’s good mom.” I smiled back and hugged him.
Something else that should be mentioned is that even though I thought I needed to “vent” to friends following the fireworks, no one was available to validate my craziness. And that’s good. This opened the door for some much needed dialogue with God because Lord knows, I needed to be straightened out before I could even attempt to straighten out others.
This Mother Hen has learned a valuable lesson. I definitely don’t want to put all my “eggs” in my own basket because that just leads to scrambled eggs, shells included. No, I want to “co-hen” with Jesus. I know that in the future, we are going to fix up some seriously delectable omelets; shells not included. Be blessed friends.