Deep Breaths

Today was one of those days that lead me to make rash statements like Spring Break is going to kill me! and I really think I might just give away my kids...anyone want them?

It started out fine, and it isn't like the whole day was terrible. I did plenty of fun things, but by the time this afternoon rolled around, I was just grouchy.

The kids were wild all day, and had the hardest time listening and following directions -- especially Sassy, and I had just recently bragged about how wonderful she had been lately. However, for the past couple of days she has been wild.

Stride Rite didn't have the shoes that I wanted to get Bubba for Easter (talk about shopping at the last minute, I know...), but they did have a pair that worked in a 10.5W, and thankfully Bubba liked them (we can't be real picky in a size 10.5W...but try telling that to a two-year-old).

While we were in Stride Rite, the kids ran around like maniacs rather than sticking quietly beside me, and Sassy asked me every two minutes to get her some shoes, even though I just bought her two new pairs the other day.

The Farmer has been sick...and, thus, a big, fat baby.

My babysitter is sick...again, so I didn't get any work done today. In fact, I got to work and had to immediately turn around and come home because she came down with a fever after getting to my house.

The Farmer has not been home since Monday night, so we have begun our usual springtime separation -- which always makes me a little less patient with the children.

I couldn't find a babysitter to go out to eat with some good friends who are in town, and I'm not really sure when I will get to see them.

I haven't been to the grocery store in forever, and we have no food in this house. No milk. No Pop-Tarts. No peanut butter. Nothing.

Really, by the time bedtime rolled around, I was done.

And then, as I was reading The Jesus Storybook Bible to the kids before bed tonight, something changed. I read the story of God calling on Abraham to give Isaac as a sacrifice to Him. At the end of this story, I read:

And as they sat there on the mountaintop, watching the embers of the fire die in the cool night air, the stars above them sparkling in the velvet sky, God helped Abraham and Isaac understand something. God wanted his people to live, not die. God wanted to rescue his people, not punish them. But they must trust him.

"One day Someone will be born into your family," God promised them."And he will bring happiness to the whole world."

God was getting ready to give the world a wonderful present. It would be God's way to tell his people, "I love you."

Many years later, another Son would climb another hill, carrying wood on his back. Like Isaac, he would trust his Father and do what his Father asked. He wouldn't struggle or run away.

Who was he? God's Son, his only Son -- the Son he loved.

The Lamb of God.

The words I read made me think about how all the little things that I was so irritated over are just stupid, little things. They are fleeting, unimportant. By focusing on them, I am not focusing on living the life God wants me to have.

Here we are in the middle of Holy Week, and we are celebrating the time when God's Son carried the hard wood of the cross on His back so that He could die to save me, and I am worried about myself and all these little things that are bothering me. We are celebrating God's big "I love you" to the world -- the life, death, and resurrection of His Son -- and I am wasting my time being irritated at the world.

That story made me take a deep breath and shift my focus to the Cross -- where it should have been all along.

And now my children are sleeping like sweet little angels. And The Farmer called to apologize for complaining the whole time he talked to me.

No, not everything is right in this world. I still don't have any food in the house. I still would like for my kids to be better behaved. But it will never all be right in this world, and that is okay because this world is not all there is. The battle is won, and we will remember that as long as we keep our eyes on the Cross.