It is 11:30pm and Oliver has been up six times already. If this is teething, I may be looking for a new job. We are staying at my friends vacation place, a trailer, and I am keenly away, that we are keeping EVERYBODY awake. As Oliver finally quiets in my arms, I lay him down, saying a quick prayer he will rest. I lay down, and suddenly I am awake again. It is my nine year old. His tummy hurts, so as I struggle find the light switch in the teeny bathroom before he chucks all over the place, I wonder, is this hell?
An hour later the older one is back into sleep, and the baby is up, screaming in my arms. I could be in hell, I’m exhausted, this has been going on for nights, so I could be delusional, but I am suddenly very aware, there is no where else I’d rather be in that moment. These are my children. My treasure. My purpose. They need me.
I admit, I have not fallen gracefully into this season. I have felt my years. My body gets tired, I get tired. I wonder what was I thinking, having a baby at my age. I wonder sometimes if I can handle everything that has been served up on my plate, but something happened that night. Maybe it was the delirium of too many sleepless nights. Lately I have felt so stretched that the tension has been audible. I pictured myself suspended in wire, being pulled in ten different directions. If an imaginary hand had reached down and touched one of those strings it would snap, sending me flying, ping ponging in every direction.
Last night, I was on my way home from a wedding that I had helped my sister with. I drove the long drive back from Vancouver to Langley. I pulled into the driveway, so grateful to be home, dead tired from my sleepless, sick baby, nights. I reached into my purse, and pulled out my sister’s car keys. She had given them to me so I could get my bags our of her trunk when I was leaving. I wanted to cry. My sister was now in Vancouver. No keys. I told my husband I was driving back to Vancouver, biting back the tears that were threatening to spill.
On my way I throw my IPod on the stereo and turned it up. I discover this:
- My car has an awesome stereo, with an impressive amount of base
- Stevie Nicks’ throaty crooning of “Landslide” is perfect song for a women engulfed in self pity and stretched to her limits.
As I drive I began to think of that tension, and had a vision. Of myself suspended on those wires, pulled in every direction. Then it was God’s had, reaching down to pick me up, wires disappearing, being pulled onto his lap. Head resting on the rise of his cheat as Heaven was breathed over me. This too shall pass.
I realized when I was almost home, how much I need that two hour drive. How much I needed to regroup. I have been wondering about my purpose. Caught up in nursing sick demanding children. Feeling like I am wandering aimlessly through life searching for my target. In that moment, my stereo blasting, God’s hand on me, breathing heaving down, I know that I will hit my mark. It’s a crazy life sometimes, I am getting older, and I am changing (inspired by Stevie). My wants today are so different from the past. Not working, being at home, has closed doors, and now the path is new. Scary. As I pulled into my driveway, I took God’s hand and gratefully walked up to my bed. My husbands, breathing softly beside me, my kids sleeping. I know my purpose. I can do this thing.