To whom much is given . . .

much is required.

Sometimes I get discouraged. Sleep deprivation doesn't help. I am tired only partially due to a newborn. I also stayed up late doing laundry one night recently, and twice have stayed up to watch a movie with my husband (his love language=me watching a movie with him, not my preference, watched The Social Network, saw half of it one night because he watched it and I got sucked in, saw the rest last night because I had seen the other half and wanted to see the beginning).

Being with people who disapprove of my life and choices wears me down. Whether they are strangers, friends, or family, I have not learned the skill of not caring what people think.

(laughing out loud because I'm typing about being discouraged and overwhelmed while holding two babies)

Having sick children feels like failure. In the same way we begin to yearn for spring in the dead of winter, feeling like we'll never be warm again, I am longing for my children to be all healthy again. It's been the weirdest collection of symptoms without a diagnosis, all different things, just dribbling along. I don't mind little sick people all that much. I can clean up a bed full of vomit, diarrhea down the leg and on the floor, give a shower in the night to a croupy toddler or wipe little snotty noses all day and not mind too much. But having big kids laying around with a half fever, a wimpy appetite and a sort of sore throat is hard to deal with. I just want them to feel better.

Last night, I started a conversation with my husband with the question, "This doesn't seem to bother you, how do you handle it?" But our talk eventually moved toward the condition of my home school records and another thing to add to my too-long to-do list, and the sinking feeling that my husband thinks I'm not very impressive either.

Checking anything off that list feels great to me. This past weekend I hung up two laundry baskets full of shirts and matched two baskets full of socks. But child #10 frequently gets loose in the family closet and wants to wear everything she sees, whether it belongs to her or not. Small people put socks on feet and hands to become lions and tigers or ice skaters and there goes my carefully matched and jealously hoarded sock collection.

And the list of things to do is long, and many of the tasks require my full attention, which is so rare and precious, and that is discouraging too.

This assessment of the new normal can be discouraging. Each time a new little one comes home, I am astonished at how little time I really have to do anything with 2 hands and a brain. But this is a little different. Basically, for the first time in my long and glorious (or not) mothering career, I have come to a point where I have a hard time being alone with my smallest 3. I can do it, but it is hard, and, well, discouraging. Nursing a baby takes a lot of time. Nursing 2 babies takes longer. And nursing and bottle feeding and diaper changing and rinsing and washing and hanging and drying all my Bumgenius diapers (don't be impressed, could I honestly afford to put them all in disposables??) takes a whole lot of time. (And I should mention that holding a certain 6 month old is the aquatic equivalent of sitting on the front row at Sea World during the Free Willy show, you have to change your shirt or wear it wet.)

On the other hand, and this is the silliest thing, I feel so thankful at the silliest things. I feel like a dragon on a pile of gold sitting in my laundry room with all the diapers and clothes that God has provided for all the blessings God has given, sleeping in the beds God has also provided in the home He has given us, paid for with $$ from the job God has blessed my husband with. I am blessed. My cup runneth over. I don't want it to change. The Lord is my Shepherd - I shall not want.

He leads me beside the still waters. My children often bring me a big dripping cup of it. He makes me lie down in green pastures. My husband will soon be teaching our sons how to mow the green pastures. And my daughter is planning what to grow in her garden. He prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies - I do not have to wait for a safe peaceful moment for restoration and nourishment. Right in the middle of chaos, insanity and various attacks, I find Him faithful and more awesome than I knew.

Goodness and mercy follow me, asking if they can have an orange, and can I peel it, or can they have some chocolate chips. And I will dwell in the house of the Lord, because I'd be lost without Him.