The cold January morning was still dark as I raced into the kitchen. Pulling out the heavy cast iron skillet, I contemplated breakfast. Turkey bacon, scrambled eggs, and a smoothie. We had been experiencing spring like weather for the last week. It was proving to be an unpredictable year in our valley, 20 degrees one week, 70 the next. With the hint of blossoms in the air, I could think of nothing better than a smoothie for breakfast.
A handful of spinach, a few frozen peaches, a hearty dollop of Greek yogurt, and rich whole milk were all added to the new blender that several hours of overtime had helped pay for. Not a sip of the freshly brewed coffee that Tony makes for me most mornings had yet passed my lips and the turkey bacon was popping on the stove, as I rushed out towards the garage where more frozen peaches waited in the freezer.
I never made it to the garage. A small red table that stands next to the door stopped me dead in my tracks. There, housing a few knitting magazines and music books, it seemed to be inconspicuous. Who would guess it would be the first downfall of a day that was not going to go my way?
Grabbing my toes and holding back tears, that little voice inside my head said, “Oh this is not going to be a good day.”
I tried to quell that voice, telling it harshly to be quiet! So what if I had stayed up a bit late last night so I could watch Sherlock? I could handle it the next day. I have had many nights with few precious hours of sleep. And to top it all of the last several days had been very stressful. I deserved a little TV time… right?
Wrong. The day only seemed to progressively grow worse and worse. None of the kids school work was easy. The three year old kept crying but would not, perhaps could not, explain what was wrong. When the just turned two year old looked up at me with a saucy and angry look and gave me a tart raspberry from his precious little lips, I knew that voice was right. It was not going to be my day.
One of the kids stomped on my toe, I pinched my finger with a pair of tongs trying to pull the hot dogs out of the boiling water…
I finally lost it. I broke down in whimpers, called to my teen daughters who were working on their school in the backroom. They dutifully passed out lunch while I had a bit of a good cry on my bed.
I decided I needed to start the day over. I prayed, rolled out of bed, brushed my teeth, and got in the shower. While the teenagers oversaw the young ones, I cleaned away the stress of the morning and then spent more time in prayer.
A good, strong, and heartfelt prayer and I was ready to once again face the day. I gave over the frustration and pain of the morning. I prayed over each and every one of my children, spending a little more time on the two youngest who probably needed a nap.
We all need to start over once in awhile, even if it is as simple as starting over a day. As Jesus tells us in Matthew 8:28, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Every day has its challenges, some days more than others, but we are all made new in Christ. There is nothing wrong with taking a few moments to refresh, start over with God. Even if all you can do is hid in the bathroom for a few moments while chaos erupts outside, get down on your knees on the linoleum floor and whisper three soft times, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.”
That is all it takes, He will take care of the rest.