Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Prepare My [sinful] Heart

Blogging usually comes out of the most deep, dark places for me. If you only ever read my blog and didn't know me in real life you would probably think that I was sad and depressed all the time. Or maybe not. Maybe you would just think that I'm a broken person who messes up sometimes. Which, we all are, and if anyone says otherwise, they are lying.

Oh man, we are approaching the lenten season and I really want to fast from something. Okay, that sounds totally dumb "really want" shouldn't go along with fast. It's kind of like how people "really want" to run a half marathon or to wake up early or to eat better. In theory they want to, but when the rubber meets the road they're like "oh crap, I didn't really want to do this."

I talked to Ben about giving up social media and he was like, "you always give that up. Isn't there something else?" Maybe I could give up cleaning the bathroom or doing the laundry. His suggestion was that I give up sugar. Sure! Wait, what? I like sugar in my coffee every morning. That's how I meet with God! How is this supposed to help me get closer to Jesus.

I have been reading Jen Hatmaker's book 7 and it's messing with me. It's all about cutting back and reducing so that there is less of me and more of Christ. Less stuff, less food, less waste, less stress… more Jesus.

And now we are approaching a fasting season.

Hmmmm.


Ben is having weird hours at work. He's gone again this evening. I had a busy (good) afternoon, but it wore me out. I got home and he had to leave for work. My solution was to put the kids in front of the Letter Factory video and I would go in and lay down on Levi's bed for 30 mins. I think I did sleep at one point but then awoke to the sound of a diaper being torn off.

Aria has been tearing off her diapers lately. I'm not ready for this. I don't want to potty train her yet. I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't remember how we potty trained Levi, it was all just a blur that I want to forget. Oh dear Aria, please stop ripping off your diapers.

I got out of bed and found her with a poopy diaper in her hand. Poop was also on the floor. She had also pulled up her pants over her poopy bottom. It was no pretty.

"I cannot do this."

My brain was functioning on low.

What will solve this? Maybe if I eat something. Maybe that will make me feel better. Yes, good idea. What do we have in the refrigerator? Pantry? I couldn't tell you what I ate, only that it was stress eating. I was reaching out to food to help me. Ask me, "did it help you Jody?" No. It did not make Aria stop screaming at Levi who refuses to share just one or two of his twenty two cars that he plays with …  seriously?!

As we worked our way through the evening and I fed them dinner I began to think dark thoughts in my head about how when they went to bed I would have the biggest bowl of ice cream I could imagine. I would sit and eat it and watch "Say Yes to the Dress" on Youtube (confession of a guilty pleasure).

I even started to think, yes, I will fast from sugar, that's a good idea. Today is Fat Tuesday so that justifies a ginormous gorging even more.

What a knee jerk reaction.

Thankfully the Lord always props up a door or window out of my sin and temptation. These days He uses my kids. Somewhere in the evening they wanted to call Daddy. I was like, "good idea, then he can know how much I'm struggling at home without him!"

What's crazy is that somewhere in the mess and muddle of things, talking to Ben, dealing with the kids, I got my head on straight and thought, I don't need that. I don't need to go to bed with that on my stomach. It would just mess with my sleep.

Somewhere God gave me some grace. He reached down and saved me.

Lord, You know my heart. I want to know You more. I want to prepare my heart for Resurrection Sunday, the best day of the year as far as I'm concerned. Help me to prepare even in the midst of the chaos of three little kids. Give me wisdom. Help me not to make knee jerk decisions. Thank You for a way of escape. Help me to take those more often.

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