This morning, I was instructing a first grader and a preschooler on different grade levels, different subjects, simultaneously. One child thought his work too hard, the other too easy. They complained loudly, we discussed that. The baby, who had woken too early and then avoided her morning rest, sat screaming at my feet, folding herself in half and lying her forehead on the floor and weeping out the largest most pathetic tears she could muster, and the phone was ringing. My espresso machine was steaming out it's "I'm done" song and I just wanted to crawl back in bed. There are other things on my mind, which makes everything less manageable.
The van needs repair, there's something scheduled tomorrow that I still haven't quite figured out with no van. We keep cycling through the sicknesses and fevers and dishes and laundry and dust and there's a washing machine repairman coming today to replace the gasket. I'm getting ready for a Pampered Chef show and hoping I don't forget lists and games and catalogues! Oh my! (such giant first world problems)
Life is messy, and it just gets messier. There are big issues, hurting people, broken and bleeding and waiting for hope and help, and those who have given up hoping and waiting. There are big hurts, big questions, big unknowns. That big-ness wins over my supposed, and sometimes self-inflicted issues.
Still, it is ok for me to freak out a bit and get a little crazy. Because it's those little moments of crazy that help get me to the point of growth. That help me take a millisecond to refocus, to just breathe. When I breathe, and focus, there are moments of pure amazement, glittering with clarity. Moments that I can see God, and remember His glory, and all that is important.
Mostly I just need those reminders that I am HIS child, chosen for This Task, made up of these tasks. And it's going to be all right. Even when I'm overwhelmed by the ridiculous and mundane, even when things get worse than merely overwhelming. And especially when I think about how crazy and messed up and tragic things are in other parts of Earth. Any little things that I'm stressed about now will work out, and if not, they won't. But I don't need to add contrived guilt to my overwhelmed, and my crazy. I don't need to panic. I need to let go. And run to Him, and breathe in and out, and trust.
God is here, and He is there. In your crazy beautiful mess. In the ugly. In the hopeless. For the tired, the lonely, the alone, the weary and depressed, the abused, the fainthearted (and yes, even the slightly crazy). He says, "Come to me. . . and I will give rest. . . to your soul."