Weariness did not even begin to define the bone-deep exhaustion I was feeling. Lifting the weight of my body off of my bed in the mornings felt like an impossible task. Three hormonal teenagers, a budding 8 year old, Clay with a ruptured disc that caused him excruciating pain with each step; a book deadline; a daughter in and out of the hospital being tested for a brain tumor and my mom falling and breaking her hip were just a few of the issues that occupied my thoughts each day.
Resentment was exploding inside my brain.
"No one appreciates all that I am doing to keep this family together. Cooking, washing, teaching, caring for everyone, running them to appointments, lessons, doctors and listening beyond midnight to teens pouring out their angst," and I mounted up the lists of my depleting responsibilities in my mind.
This fueled my frustration with Clay, laying next to me in bed, and seeming not to notice my burdens.
The sun was just beginning to peak through the crack in the window curtain reminding me that there was little time left to sleep.
I was "willing" Clay "evil, selfish thoughts" inside my heart--(hoping somehow he could feel the grimace inside my heart), when the Holy Spirit gently nudged my conscience.
"He needs you to encourage him. He is so discouraged because of bills, pain, and the insecurities of life all around him."
"Really, Lord? I am the one needing encouragement!"
But slowly, willing, no, forcing my arm reach over to him and gently scratching his back, I confided,
"I just want you to know that I really love you and respect how bravely you have born your ruptured disc. I know you are in such pain every day, but I am praying for you," I softly whispered, in sheer obedience to God.
Quietly, almost imperceptible, he responded,
"I am so relieved. You have every right to be mad at me. I thought you were disappointed in me for not paying attention to you or taking care of you. But I have been so down about the overwhelming issues in our lives and constantly in pain, and I have not meant to neglect you--there is just so much. Thank you for being patient with me. I really appreciate you and love you."
And he reached over and gently embraced me before crawling out of bed, grimacing pain painted on his face.
I turned over and slowly slipped out of bed, donned my soft, well worn robe and padded quietly toward the kitchen for my first cup of caffeine.
As I approached the door of my bedroom, I saw my little one laying quietly on our bedroom floor, cuddled in a comforter and staring up thoughtfully from a soft pillow.
"Mama, I was sleeping here because I had a real bad dream, but I knew you were so tired I didn't want to wake you up. But I heard you and Daddy talking. It made me feel happy to hear you all comforting each other and saying, 'I love you.' I want a marriage just like you when I grow up---where my wife and I love each together and are partners in life. That would be so much fun to live with your best friend."
I didn't know anyone was there. I am so glad I didn't lash out from my own feelings of frustration. I realized you just never know when your children are listening or watching or in what moments they are shaping their view of marriage, of life.