Pictures just cheer me up, quite frankly. Especially when they are of the ones I love.

This is my only son. He’s being very good this week in the hopes that on payday, (tomorrow in case I’m forgetting) I will reward him with a cheap video game. He’s working that angle pretty well, actually. I mean, come on! Look at that face! Now imagine it bringing you a cup of coffee in the morning! Imagine it volunteering to do some extra cleaning for the Wednesday School teachers. Imagine not having to load or unload the dishwasher for a week because *someone* has already done it for you! Littleman is getting Gooooooood.

Fourthborn on the sidelines of the soccer game. She was away a few days this week with her grandmother. I don’t know why they save all their growing for when they are gone! She sprouted a good two inches in as many days. At least, that’s how it seemed when I first saw her today after she returned. But maybe it was the boots:

She was totally rocking the short skirt/ugg boot look, with the fashion spin of the nearly 5 set. She’s got it all…”grace, face, style…hairstyle!” And speaking of…there’s this one….

My oldest daughter who also happens to be in the running for Most Frequent Comment Leaver on this site. Yes, that is a nose ring. No, I never really notice it anymore. She and I are totally obsessed with this movie called “Om Shanti Om” and in any moment when we are in the same room, you are likely to hear us quote from the subtitles of that film. Something that is wearing thin on the rest of the family, I’m sure. Especially for Secondborn, the one who figured out the theme song on her keyboard a few days later:

That’s her, keeping the beat with what she called my “sonic boom” clap. Kinda, sorta–more like she was trying to help me stay on beat? I have less that zero rhythm. I’m petitioning her to arrange the music from Om Shanti Om in such a way that the indoor percussion ensemble can wow the planet with a Bollywood-themed show. Who’s with me?

“Next week, it’s my turn!” I said, half kidding as I hugged her and started to leave. She chuckled and said “you got it!” and squeezed me tight. Her hug telling me that I was appreciated. That it made a difference. That she was better, in part, because I was available when she needed me.

She’d fallen spectacularly apart. Those that love her dearly were anxious about how long she would be able to continue at the pace, stress level and sensitivity that she’d been driving herself. Then, though we sensed it coming, the crisis unfolded suddenly to us. I was shocked but I was not surprised. And she did the thing that gave me the most hope for her, reaching out. She called, and I went. I was there for her though I had nothing really to offer except my prayers. I willingly sent them heavenward. So much so, that it literally drained me for taking care of the thousand other responsibilities I typically have turning. This was the “out of self” service to her that I willingly offered. The proof in the pudding of my unconditional love and acceptance of her.

And now, after the crisis, after the pieces of her had been gathered and tentatively reassembled… she’s showing herself in her regular shape. It crawls all over her to be needy (we are so alike in that way), but she’s finally tending to needs she otherwise ignored. And her eyes are starting that mischievous smile thing that they do. Maybe not 100% ready to teach my children more behaviors and phrases that will embarrass me, but maybe ready to pump them full of sugar and amp their energy levels up to “make Jen’s heart and head explode” levels. Yeah, she’ll get a kick out of that again soon enough.

So, seeing her mending flooded me with relief. And it’s always been the day after relief comes that I have my own mini breakdown of sorts. See, the crisis has passed, and with it the abundant grace that carried me through it. I have friends and family that have characterized me as “one tough old broad.” Evidently a rock on which many people around me lean.

But am I really? When at the first sight of these situations turning around, I fall into a sniveling pile of emotional MESS? A heap of ineffective, broken, weepy, CRAZY? A fit-throwing diva before my family and my God? I wonder, is that a spiritual growth path or a mechanism that God has provided as a pressure valve?

I’ve had people I respect and admire suggest to me that maybe it’s a faith thing. That they believe, based on their limited understanding of my entire soul-state, I am suffering from a misplaced faith. Or worse, a lack of faith. To which I call shenanigans because God knows that between Him and I, I’ve spread so many mustard seeds He might as well rename me “French’s.”

I’m about to answer my own question: During those fit throwing, breaking down times…God soothes me by letting me know that I can pour it out before Him. Right there on the floor of the throne room, He really doesn’t mind if I get all snotty and messy and maybe even wail a bit. There’s a part of that emergency that wants to cling, choke out faith, and maybe even take up residence. But He is one hundred percent OK with my need to fall apart a bit in order to break that off. In fact, I often get the impression that He is waiting for it.

She fell spectacularly apart. Then, so did I (only differently). And while I’m still mopping up the mess I made of myself…He’s preparing another measure of grace for tomorrow.

Those of you who had a feeling September was going to be a rough month, couldn’t you have clued me in before it started raking me over the coals?

I kid, I kid. But it has been a blur of activity so far. Most of it the good kind that makes life rich and full and gives you plenty of memories to come back to. Some of it, however, has been the challenging, the faith-testing variety that exercises your spiritual muscles. But good or bad, the end result is that I’ve been spending a lot of time in unplanned, unpredictable situations.

Unplanned and unpredictable. Do you hear what I am saying? Do you have any idea how crazy that makes me?

It’s one thing that my schedule is packed tight with doctor appointments, work,  soccer practices, band pickups and drop offs, puppy school and the normal day-to-day runaround that comes with having a big family. But that chillaxing evening of movie watching with my girls? Thrown off course by a family member in need. That first real home-cooked-from scratch meal planned on the holiday? Started, but finished cooking by the rest of the family whilst I attended to another situation that sprang up. In other words, when I try to plan some downtime…well, you know…

But about this workout in my faith that I’ve been given in the past couple of weeks. Much like hitting the gym harder than I had been, I can sense some soreness from having used spiritual muscles I didn’t know I had. Faith that has been pulled up out of my gut and fired off through my prayers and affirmations…I AM TELLING YOU THE TRUTH THAT I HAD NOT A CLUE THAT IT WAS IN ME.

Not a clue. I’ve been walking around hoping that all this spiritual workout would some day do me some good (when? eventually! in the great by and by? I don’t know). I didn’t realize, of course, that it begins to do good with the first lifting of praise. Sure, I’m not going to notice the changes immediately, but they begin immediately. Then one day…not too far down the road, I realize that the burdens I wear are fitting a little more loosely then before. Next thing you know someone is complimenting my strength of faith and I look in the mirror and realize, “oh hey! I’m getting buff now! Check me out!”

(Wow, that’s one confusing metaphor there.)

Not that this is to say that I am feeling like willingly heading into the spiritual equivalent of the Strongman competition. But there is a satisfaction of seeing and feeling the rewards of faith that I am having trouble articulating. And it spurs me to exercise and practice my faith more…the way getting into my skinny jeans motivates my diet plan.

NOT THAT I AM REQUESTING more trials and tribulations. But I am grateful for the experiences of the past few weeks, even the scary horrible ones. And I know that should more of the same come, in Him I am a little bit stronger now, and by His grace a little bit wiser now.

Eirene,

Jen