Seven days later, about 3,000 words later, and I have finished my first week. I would not call it a success, but since I’m about looking forward, and not backward, I’ll just say, “Thank you Lord for giving me another chance.”
Meds have been adjusted, perspective has been changed. I took my kids, thanks to the great leadership and coordination of other friends, to serve tonight in an emergency shelter for families. My kids were reluctant to go because they had to leave a birthday party early, but I prayed for God to speak to their young hearts, to ease their tears and fear that they would not get any cupcakes, and to let them know they were going to be His helpers, to show others His love.
It was amazing to watch my seven year old and my six year old serve juice and soup to the families. I had them walk around to the tables offering cups of soup, and after I did it with them once, they did it alone, no fear on their faces and hopefully no trepidation in their hearts. They played and ate with the children of the shelter. I don’t think I’ve had a prouder mom moment.
But I wasn’t just proud of them. I was proud of me. The depression and anxiety has kept me in my bed for the better part of the week, and I didn’t even make it to church today. But knowing I was doing something for others got me out of the bed and into my car, and answering questions about God and the Sun and the Earth, and what would happen if mommy and daddy went to jail. And I know that I started something in my children’s hearts. I know that I’ve taken one little step to make them want to do Gods work, just like I do. I also realized that part of my doing gods work is to raise his children knowing him, questioning him, loving him.
So I should call my week a success. And so I will.
Tomorrow is another chance. I have one goal: one hour of dissertation work.
Pray for me y’all.