My Evening Alone

It's dark. The corner lamp sheds the only light in the house. The children sleep, only stirring now and then. Sometimes, a cough.

The dishes still on the counter. The laundry {folded} still on the couch. Toys in their places. Tomato seedlings, on the table, all stretched out, reaching for the long-set sun.

The one called mommy, or so recently "ma" or "princess" {inside joke}, sits in the recliner. Exhausted again. Worn. Eyelids sagging. Wrists lay heavy on the laptop, head back.

The quiet feels so good. But with it, the guilt of wishing for this moment all day. Children shouldn't be wished away. Children should be given all love and attention imaginable. Children deserve way more than I can give. And sadly, the more they want, the less I have.

The old love cup story -- why does filling one drain the other?

And deeper still -- if my heart drains so quickly when I care for them so much, how does His endless love never end?
Psalm 36:7
How priceless is your unfailing love, O God! People take refuge in the shadow of your wings.
Father God -- remind me to take refuge in you. When my patience is waning. When my soul longs for quiet and solitude. When I want to escape. Let me rest in your arms and give me courage to love more. You love me and I will love them.

--One Thousand Gifts--
27. Big brother happy that he made little brother laugh
28. Children who don't drop half their meal on the floor {and say "look mommy, we are eating very well and not making a mess!!"}
29. A fun book to read in my *spare* time
30. Cleaning services {the floor is looking awfully clean up against the laundry-laden couch} 
31. Days when daddy is home. All day. Two of those coming right up.
32. Watching my boys try new things. Like this merry-go-round.