Breath In. Breath Out.

          Talking serpents, a giant Ark, a burning bush, a parted sea, a wrestling match with an angel of God these are a few of my favorite things... Sorry.  I love musicals, I couldn't help myself.   In all seriousness though, these are true events recorded in the Old Testament.   They are Sunday school stories that we have heard, read, even seen portrayed by Hollywood.  They are all too familiar for so many of us.   But every once and a while a moment will fall upon me when my mind will come rest on these transpired events and I am struck with awe and wonderment.  What was it like build a giant ark?  To have your closest neighbors and friends watch with jaws dropped in astonishment as you collect wood, and more wood and more wood and then, yes, wait for it, start to build an enormous ark.  "Why?", they might have asked. "Because God said to," you respond.  "Oh, right. " they might have ridiculed, "Because God said so.  Sure He did."   What was it like to be told to lead a group of people out of slavery and into the desert and just as you feel you are widening the gap between you and a whole lot of mean and angry Egyptians you come to the Red Sea.   "Umm...God?  You up there?  This might be a nice time to intervene" you say as your life flashes before your eyes.   And then you feel a slight small voice say, "Raise your staff and stretch out your hand."  So you do and the sea, the whole sea, parts so you can make your escape.  God has intervened.  He has saved you.
     These are examples of what we call miracles.  They are named such for one; because this kind of stuff (i.e. a sea parting) doesn't happen every day.   But for two; because the God of the universe who, as outlined in Job, "laid the earth's foundations, marked off it's dimensions, gives orders to the morning and sends the lightning bolts on their way," this God actually chooses to intervene in our yes, our, tiny little insignificant and entirely un-worth it lives.  And the kicker, yeah the real kicker, is that He doesn't see it this way at all.   We broke His heart, in the garden.  They broke His heart, they believed that there would be  something better about creation without the One who created it.  We still believe, almost daily, that there is something better about creation without the One who created it.  He could have turned His back but they were naked and He gave them clothes.  He cared.  He intervened.  It was a miracle.  And the good news is that He still cares.  He still intervenes.   There are still miracles.
         So, I stay at home with my kids.  I chose this line of work three or so years ago when I found out, surprise, we were pregnant with number two.   I love what I do.  I'm so thankful I get to do what I do.  The thought of dropping my boys off in the morning and knowing that inevitably, I would miss something be it big or small, insignificant or significant, makes me stomach churn.  (NOT THAT THERE IS ANYTHING WRONG WITH GOING TO WORK OR DAY CARE!  It just happens, that for us, right now, me being at home is the best thing for our family).  Moral of the story, this choice I made, sometime ago, to be at home, most of the time is pure bliss but sometimes...let's just say, I have my days.  And I struggle.  I suppose like may of you do too, with finding time for God when I am reminded, quite frequently, that my time is not my own.    I sold my soul to motherhood, for lack of a better term, and I pay for it everyday.  I am reminded of this while trying to poop with a baby crawling up my leg and a toddler yelling, "You pooping Mama?"  I reminded of it when I reminisce about the days I called showering once a day- a necessity and not a luxury.        
             How do you do this?  How do you balance the 24 hour job of being a mother and still find time to connect with God?   There is no manual.  But thankfully God is still in the business of performing miracles.
          He cares.  He intervenes.  He inserts himself in my house cleaning, toy tidying, grocery shopping, butt wiping, super hero playing life.  He is there.  All the time.  He never leaves.  He watches all I do with loving attention.  It really is a miracle.   And no, I ain't building no arks, or parting no seas, but I am raising three boys.  Is it really any smaller of a task or less of a calling?  He is there.  All I have to do is breath in.  Breath out.  And He reminds me.  I am with you.  Breath in.  Breath out.  I care about your life.   Breath in.  Breath out.  I see all you do.
        I know this.  I know He is with me.  I know this because, with my head jammed closer than I would like to my hall bathroom toilet covered in I am still too short for my privates to quite reach pee with my Lysol cleaner in one hand and toilet brush in the other I found  joy.  Yep, you read it right, joy.  Breath in.  Breath out.  I see you.  Breathe in.  Breath out.   You are serving your family and no one knows about this (until now) and I see you.
     I know this because yesterday, was one of the  "those days" I mentioned.   A few highlights:
my middle son who still has a long way to go in learning to poop in the potty, "Mom, I pooped in my underwear outside."
My oldest son, "Mom, Norma (our dog) is eating the poop."
Me, "Crosby don't pull up on the toilet. "
Me, "Michael, Crosby just threw up all over his high chair."
  I know He is with me when a day like that can still end in a moment of God intervened perfection.  Me, rocking littlest man watching him drift off to sleep. Breath in.  Breath out.  I am watching you.  Watch him.  He won't be this age forever.  Me, singing  "He's Got the Whole World in His hands..." with my big boys each one taking turns calling out the next verses' substitution, " He's got Nana and Papa in His hands..."  Oliver yells out, "all our family."   We sing, "He's got all our family in His hands."  Breath in.  Breath out.  I really do have the whole world in my hands.  Including you.  Breath in.  Breath out.  I love you.  I see you.  I intervene.  I am still in the business of doing miracles