I used to love an old song by Steve Camp, I think, "the gospel according to Jesus". It had all the hard sayings of Jesus in it: consider the cost of building a tower, it's a narrow way that you must come for to do the will of the Father is to follow the Son, to love Him more than father or mother, to love Him more than even your own flesh. To give all that you are for all that He is."
Today I failed to consider the cost. I enjoyed a moments pleasure but I am paying for it now.
Several of my kids (who says that?) went to dance class today, leaving only 6. 2 were studying silently, 4 slept peacefully, I did laundry like the wind, or like the wind would do laundry if a woodchuck could chuck wood. It was bliss. I listened to a podcast, I tell you. It was like I was single or something.
But now. Now it is approaching 11:00. P. m. And 3 of the four who napped are awake. Wide awake. Chatting. Climbing out of bed. Throwing toys. Writing doctoral dissertations.
Regret. I am filled with it. If only I'd thought. If only I'd known. Sure, it was great to fold 4 baskets of clean clothes. But was it worth it?
Consider the cost my friends. Sure, 2 hours of uninterrupted laundry folding might sound like a dream come true, but not if you find yourself stationed on a step strategically positioned equidistant from all three bedroom doors, hours after you wanted to go to sleep, like a guy decked out in duck dynasty duds at the end of bow season, just waiting for something to pop it's head out.
Say, "La vee!" Friends. That's just the way it goes.
