Therefore I'll say again...

I sit at somewhat of a crossroads lately.  My dear friend tells me only I can choose my path.  I have prayed much, and sought counsel, and fallen into the pit of despair.  Psalm 46 and many other passages shared with me by dear, dear friends online have been my comfort.

You know I left my husband once already.  I did not want to do it, but I HAD to get the children and me to safety.  I have considered whether that separation was enough, whether it accomplished the objective, because I've been watching and waiting to see some neon signish *change* that tells me all is now well, I can stop being vigilant, and FINALLY relax knowing we are going to be okay.  Now I DID need to be wary and watchful, but who can say where the line is between being cautious enough not to get sucked back into old unhealthy habits... and yet not try to control the situation so much by expecting proof rather than trusting? 

I have prayerfully considered this, and I have chosen my path.  God grant me the strength to follow it, seeking His guidance and not my own foolish wisdom.

My husband and I have essentially tripped over one another trying to do right... not only this but I realize I have been dancing on the edge of insanity, daring Satan to push me a little more, and a little more... oh, Lord forgive me for deluding myself into believing the lie again.  The theme of my life has been played out over and over again.  "I'm not in control, God is in control!  I trust Him, not myself; I can't handle this, but for God's grace." This is my mantra, to which I give much in the way of lip service... but sadly for me, while I have been saying it, I have not really been living it.  Alas, the same condition continues to plague me!  Much as I would like to think otherwise, I am diseased with sin.  I say I can't handle it, but really I believe I can, so I keep doing what I can to prove it.  You know, I've been told that it has appeared I am trying to prove something to the world;  but, gee, are you kidding?!  It's not the world I'm trying to convince, it's ME.  I want to forget that I am nothing, that I am incapable of anything but selfishly neglecting those placed in my care, and even hurting them.  Verbally, nonverbally, emotionally, psychologically, physically.  It is not a pretty picture when I am forced to view myself in the mirror of the law and I see nothing but ugliness.  Horrific sin nature, capable of the same crimes on which society looks as worthy of having my children taken away, being sent to jail, or worse.  Granted, I've not killed anyone... but what difference is there in God's eyes?  I have betrayed the trust of my husband and children,  I have looked upon them with scorn, I have been impatient with them, I have wanted to get away, I have whined about not getting what I want, and whined about giving them what they need. I have caused them physical pain when I failed to restrain my anger and frustration.  I have caused them to feel small and less than important, and failed to assure them of their worth-- not because of what *I* say or do, but because of what Christ did for them, for me, for all.  Each life, each soul, each precious child of God is worth the immense sacrifice Christ made on the cross.

I know God forgives me for the things I have said and done, and thanks be to Him that my husband and children are forgiving because of His forgiveness.  May God grant that I can forgive myself... and may He let me not forget, but spur me on in awareness and action, seeking the help I need when I need it rather than after the hurt has been done. 

As I write I know that there is no more waiting, "holding out" for the knowledge of "where will we live, what will we wear, what will we eat."  The Lord does not give to us the task and privilege of nurturing our children with strings attached... I'll give them attention once I get things settled and organized... or I'll listen to their stories and troubles once I'm satisfied I've accomplished all I have on my to-do list... or I'll have the wherewithall to hug them when I feel the LEAST like doing it-- but only once MY needs have been satisfactorily met.

May my Heavenly Father have mercy on me, a sinner.  And remind me that His mercies are new every morning.  EVEN for me. 

"God loves me dearly, loves even me."

The novelty fades...

So it's been eight days since I last posted already?? Sheesh. I start to wonder where the time went, and what I was doing all that time, but then I KNOW and I understand. I slowed down. It all caught up with me. I got tired, and spent the last week flailing in a vain attempt to keep my head above water. It failed. We survived. I am still trying to catch up dishes from two days ago and laundry from a week ago, heck, two weeks ago!

In a word? *LIFE* happened. I did not take it by the horns and tell it what we are doing, it took me down in three counts. Amazingly, I have not felt guilty. Not one bit! NO, REALLY! I am in utter shock. Frustrated, weary, disappointed, fatigued, irritable, sleepy, dazed and confused, yes. And before you ask the question burning in your mind-- um, no, I don't *think* so, because believe it or not (of course you do, you are likely one of me), there is a whole host of other things to cause a mom-- or any woman-- to fall flat on her face the way I did last week.

In fact, you might say it's amazing we all managed to eat and not run around naked here over the last several days. So there's something with which I can be content... and yes, I have even said it a few times. "Hey, I/you can't complain too much. We ate, didn't we?"

I live in quiet contentment and hope that this is yet another frustrating and all too common phase, which given another week or so will indeed pass. OR, if it doesn't, well... stay tuned for that. You never know.

Now that I've typed through mybody-and-brain-weary stupor, I leave you to figure out if anything made any sense at all, since I now have to go put crusty dishes in the machine and stand menacingly in the doorway where the restless natives are supposed to be lying quietly.