Since becoming a mom, I've taken to praying in the shower. I still pray outside of the shower, of course, but most of my intimate conversations with the Lord take place amid the near-scalding cascade of water because it's the only place in the house where I'm truly alone. No one is pulling or climbing on me, and all requests for snacks or sibling interventions are referred to Daddy.
This morning's time with the Lord was so sweet. It's Sunday, which meant I was looking forward to roughly three hours of time in worship and fellowship with Christian friends. There's a certain bliss in being able to focus on my relationship with Christ without interruption, knowing my kids are being cared for by people who will share the Gospel with them. Our church was beginning a new sermon series this weekend which would take the congregation through the entire Bible in one year. Aaron and I were to start leading a small group of new church members in a Discover Group session after the sermon - a service we love to perform together. Plus, being Super Bowl Sunday, I also was looking forward to tonight's party with my Sunday school class which also would feature childcare. So as I spoke with the Lord, I asked Him to help me put all distractions out of my mind this morning so I could worship the only one worthy, and I looked forward to a day with two lovely breaks from the stresses of parental duties. I opened my eyes to see, through the haze of steamed-up glass, my 2-year-old son laying on the bath mat outside the shower stall nuzzling his blanket. I smiled, touched by my little boy's need to be near his mommy.
Just a few minutes passed before I noticed that Adam's eyes were crusty and bloodshot, and suddenly my worshipful outlook and warm fuzzies had dissipated as quickly as had the steam in my shower. Was it his allergies or was he sick? Unwilling to take a chance on the latter, my husband and I decided to keep Adam out of childcare and listen to the sermon with him in the cry room just outside the sanctuary. I was to take the kids back home after the first hour, leaving Aaron to lead our small group alone. This also meant one of us would have to stay at home with the kids tonight while the other went to the party. Last year, when both came down with colds on Super Bowl weekend, I was the designated nurse. And did I mention that I was nearly finished getting ready by the time we'd decided on this plan? Good hair day. New outfit. Full makeup, including mascara. These things don't come together every day. And, brother, I looked cute... to spend most of the day at home with the kids... like every other day of the week.
I was incensed.
We struggled to get out the door by 8:30 a.m., meaning we'd barely make it in time for service to begin, and the kids were difficult all the way into church. Four-year-old Katie was extra clingy, demanding to be carried across the parking lot and crying when we dropped her off in her class. We herded a very excited Adam to a cry room on one side of the sanctuary, but since it was already full we headed to another one on the opposite side. In the mean time, music for the service began and my heart sank further, as I love worshipping in song.
The three of us finally made it to the other cry room, which to my great relief was empty because I had some crying to do. And I did sob. But it wasn't so much out of frustration as it was in being reminded of how incredibly selfish I am. Lord God, you have given me such riches - a life everlasting made possible by Christ's sacrifice, a husband who treats me with love and patience, two healthy children who bring me so much joy and much, much more! How could I be so easily distracted by a disruption in my plans for the day? How could I be that easily be discouraged when so many of my brothers and sisters in Christ are living in poverty to deliver your Gospel to the unreached? How could you possibly love this heart of mine, Lord, when I can't stand it myself?
Tears still run down my once made-up face as I recount this morning's glance into a mirror. What I saw was ugly. At the same time, I'm filled with the wonder of knowing my Father sees the beauty He will make of it, and I'm grateful. So grateful for His refinement, and so looking forward to being freed from the blackness of the human heart. He'll give me one like His.
