This won't be your typical blog post. Most blogs you read, including mine, paint a fairly good picture of life. You have your birthday parties, your happy smiles, your good times. I have seen posts about sad things like death and sickness. I don't remember reading that many blog posts about the bad times. For some reason people don't want to talk about their bad times. Considering every blog post becomes a record for all to see - I can understand why most don't want to talk about anything questionable or bad.
I am going to talk about something sad, bad, and happy. I don't want to pick on anyone, I don't want to make anyone mad, and I don't want to sugar coat it. I simply want to show you that I am not perfect and that this family is not perfect. I also want to show you that I am willing to share with you the good, the bad, and the ugly. And hopefully, after this post, I will start sleeping again because I'm not thinking about it anymore.
I snapped over Christmas. My pot finally boiled over and years of pent up frustrations came out. It wasn't that bad, but it wasn't that good either and when I needed it, someone hugged me. This all started because its hard to visit family in South Dakota. Bringing this many kids that far is a challenge all in itself. Finding room for us without imposing on people is also a challenge. Both families have been very gracious hosts in that regard. What never seems to heal, though, is my broken heart.
I get tired of hearing people yell at my kids. I get tired of them getting in trouble for touching this and that. I get frustrated when they won't listen right away. It eats at me. It hurts me. My kids don't deserve to visit a place they love and get hounded about what they can't do right. My kids aren't perfect. I know this. I am trying to work on all their tendencies that irritate others and myself. Over Christmas I had enough of all these years of my kids not doing things the way everyone else thinks they should. I snapped. I'm sorry to those who were in the line of fire, mostly my kids. It was then that I realized something huge. I'm a failure.
I have failed my kids and husband. I have failed to be the kind of mom and wife they need. For weeks now I have looked and all I have seen is failure. The way the kids respond to me, failure. The way I respond to them, failure. The way they are towards each other, failure. FAILURE! The way the kids complain about school and hate everything about it, failure. The way I am still trying to put this house into some type of order, failure. The way I feel some when I should be praying but I'm not, failure. The way I resisted going to confession, failure. Fail....failure.
Inside of me a battle raged. I'm sure people who were around me had no idea. I wasn't hiding anything or putting on a good show - it was just all inside of me. These feelings of failure and this battle inside of me were all bottled up. There were nights when I would cry and cry because the battle hurt me. My soul begged for me to ask for forgiveness and yet I resisted. I just kept dying inside. I just kept hurting inside. I just kept it all inside.
One night when I figured my only option was to give up, and during a particularly good cry, Someone spoke to me. God began to comfort me. I kept hearing God tell me "Keep dying. I am here with you. When you have completely died to yourself and your ideas, I will take your starving, empty soul and fill it up with My love. I will take your hurting, broken heart and heal it. I will take the shattered pieces of your life and mold them into what I want for you. Let the pride die, let the anger die, let your feelings of inadequacy die. I will make you whole." Oh how I cried and cried after that.
I went to confession this weekend. I can't say it was one of those mountain moving, faith exploding inside of you moments. It was just like most of the confessions I have had. Later that night, as I was trying to sleep, I cried again. I felt like I had made the first step to becoming whole again. I felt like God was saying to me "I am here with you." I know I still have battles inside of me to fight, more pride to let die, and lots of damage to repair. I cry sad tears for the pain I caused others. I cry sad tears for pain my children have felt. I cry happy tears because I know it will get better. I cry happy tears because I know, broken hearted or not, I still have my family and there is nothing more precious on this earth to me than those kids and their dad.
Its amazing how all it takes is a hug from the right person at the right time to turn your life around. Thanks Dad.
