It is all quite an adventure before 9am when you factor in a new puppy, same old small fat puppy, four kids, with at least three in some sort of crisis at all times, and a chest cold that leaves you lifeless but even worse, voice less, because when the small fat dog runs into the busy morning traffic because he spots the garbage man, it is impossible to shout out and call after the dog when no sound comes out of your own exhausted self.
And before this, all of this chaos, was the awakening to find that dinner from last night was never put away and no coffee was set, and you stare at the 5:30 am time on the oven clock, with eight chicken drumsticks lying in the same dirty pan, like they have all been tucked in for the night under a blanket of some sort of disgusting gel that formed over night, and right then and there, you reconsider eating chicken ever again.
And then you stare at the couches that have no cushions or slip cover because pee and poop were wiped on them and I am not confident here that it is only the dogs to blame.
And all before 8am I tried to order two yearbooks and reschedule senior portraits, and did you know that today is crazy hair day for fourth graders?
In these moments I do what I need to do. I search pinterest for pretty cakes, only to look up and realize that the bus comes in ten minutes and nothing has been packed and the kid is not dressed, and suddenly I am dipping colored chalk into water and rubbing the living daylights out of my kids head because he wants rainbow hair. Because don't forget. It is crazy hair day. I wish it was "forget to do your homework" day, or "don't pack any lunch" day.
Yesterday was the "miss the bus" day. For only us.
And now the house is quiet and I go to work soon, which means I shower and dress and sit back in this kitchen mess which is also known as my office, and I...go to work.
It is quite an adventure all before 9am. And yet, maybe it is grace, or just some stupid luck, that I am able to sit here in absolute peace while I feel gratitude rise, because this ridiculous life is all mine, and every bit of it a gift. I cling to to the verse "the Lord is my strength", because life lately, has done its best to weaken every bone in my body and shatter my faith, and yet I am wrapped around this anchor of hope that I refuse to let go of, and the only explanation for even having the energy to hold onto this anchor is that I grasp onto it not by my own strength, but by the very strength of the One who carefully knit this mess known as me; this mess that has nothing on the beauty that is Him, living inside of me.