Nine Weeks

If I had a day or two or twelve, I would tell you all about how my life has changed over the past nine weeks. Nine weeks. Just over two months. That's how long Randy has been preaching a series of sermons on the fruit of the Spirit, one week for every "fruit." And while the passage of Scripture in the Bible is certainly not new to me (or to you either, for that matter), I am in a season of life in which old things seem new again, and the passage in Galatians 5 is no exception.

I rarely write about "deep" stuff because I feel self-conscious and fear that I will not do justice to the feelings in my heart, but suffice it to say that Randy's take on love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control has created feelings of renewal in me week after week. Renewed purpose, renewed determination, renewed faith, renewed dedication and yes, even in some cases renewed guilt. For you see, I can always do better. I mean, can one ever be TOO kind? Too gentle? Too patient? Too joyful?

Needless to say, our family has undergone a transformation of sorts over the last couple of months and while we haven't necessarily perfected our walk so that it is constantly "in step with the Spirit," we have come a L-O-N-G way and as a family we have a common, unified purpose. So why is it so easy to fall back into bad habits???

I don't know about you, but the #1 all-time robber of joy in my life is an ugly little six-letter word: STRESS. I loathe it, I despise it, I HATE it. And yet, it is a close companion of mine, and I've learned that the two of us are simply going to have to get along if I'm going to make it through this life without the benefit of a straitjacket.

I will admit, I have made huge strides in my efforts to manage my stress; let's face it, a mom of four children has to pretty much bring her A game to every day or she's going to pay the piper. But I envy the mom who is quick on her feet, who juggles multiple schedules with aplomb and who still manages to put a hot dinner on her family's table at the end of the day without wishing she could put herself in time-out just once. Her feathers are never ruffled, she's never behind on the laundry and she's always well-rested.

Okay, okay, I just made that up. Truthfully, I don't think any mom fits that description. (And if she says she does, she's lying.) But when I'm having a stressful day, it's easy to heap blame on myself and assume if I could just get it together, things would run more smoothly. Take yesterday, for example:

Tyler's been under the weather for a few days. Truth be told, Tyler, Darcy and Peyton have all been in varying stages of the same crud that every other kid in Arlington has had for the past two months so I've grown rather used to the coughing fits and runny noses. But then Tyler began complaining of a sore throat and by the second day it hit me that the last time he complained of a sore throat and I blew it off, he wound up with strep. I don't have time for Tyler to have strep. There, I said it. We have church and hair appointments and basketball and band concerts and Six Flags performances and exams and staff dinners and more basketball--nope, there's no room left in my schedule for a sick child! And yet, after a squeezed-in visit to the doctor yesterday afternoon it was confirmed: Tyler has strep. Cue the violins.

I just cut several long paragraphs detailing the minutiae of my day but suffice it to say that from 12:15 p.m. to approximately 8:30, I was on the move. I made an impromptu visit to Peyton's class to help her make her final selection for the Speech Meet in February; drove to and from Bedford to confirm Tyler's illness; ran to the grocery store to fill his prescription; drove home long enough to let Darcy's clarinet instructor into the house and grab Tyler to take him to his basketball game (please, no ugly comments about what a lousy parent I am for not insisting that Tyler sit out--his coach took care of that when he took one look at Tyler's pasty white face); sat through the white-knuckled nail-biter of a game; and finally drove home and almost simultaneously downed a grilled cheese sandwich and cup of soup while quizzing Tyler for his History exam on Friday (Randy: "What? You're letting him go to school tomorrow?"), and then moved upstairs where I checked Darcy's math (she started the 6th grade book a couple of days ago and I wanted to make sure she was not having any problems) and quizzed her and Peyton for their Bible verses and tests. By the time I made it to my bedroom, I felt like I'd been rode hard and put away wet. I fairly fell into bed. Now some of my readers say, "I don't know how you do it" but for one, I am pretty organized when I want to be but for another, I tend to follow a schedule of my own making. Would it surprise you to find that I do not react well to spontaneity? If so, you don't know me very well!

So what does all this have to do with the fruit of the Spirit? It's just that I already knew that I was going to have a busy day on tap today (and tomorrow, for that matter) and all week I've felt my stress level rising, so for me to have had a day like I did yesterday . . . well, suddenly those fruits that I had been cultivating for nine weeks started tasting a little sour. The patience was a little off; the gentleness, the joy--where did they go? Because see, when I get stressed, everything ratchets up a level. Things start moving faster and I need everyone to move at the same pace. Ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha, that's SO funny. Six people at the same pace? Right.

But you know what else? Today was a brand new day. A fresh start. I got a big ol' do-over. I drove the kids to school (I usually do on Fridays) and apologized to them for my over-the-top-ness the last couple of days. Fortunately, I have mercifully forgiving kids. They know their mom messes up, but she also lets them know when she does and does her best to make things right. I even made plans to eat lunch with Peyton, something I had been wanting to do for a while (she tends to feel overlooked in this big old rowdy family), and as I drove home I could feel little buds in my soul, sprouting and blossoming and producing fruit. Aah, sweet peace. Fragrant kindness. Blessed patience. Praise Him for His mercies that ARE new every morning!