It was the best of times....and the worst of times....

Ha. Well, not really the worst of times-- I'll admit that was pretty dramatic. And not entirely true. But it was a tough night.... to put it plainly.

It isn't too often these days that we get into fights, especially over silly things. But yesterday... yesterday was terrible. And it wasn't your typical yelling kind of fight ( I hate yelling-- and very rarely do). It was the kind of fight that makes me walk away feeling like dirt. The kind that leaves me so sadly broken that I start to question who I am.......

So, I had one of my dear friend's girls here yesterday because she was going to dance with my girls. I knew Miah was having a stressful day at work so I worked really hard to clean up and organize the basement (acts of service is one of his top love languages) because I knew he would appreciate the relaxing atmosphere of a clean basement after a stressful day. After busting my bum cleaning, I got all 6 kids ready, fed (even baby Z), and out the door exactly when I planned to. (Shocked? I am still shocked I pulled that one off.) We got to dance a few minutes earlier than even I anticipated-- which I was so proud of... it isn't often that I'm early to anything these days. I got the girls all registered and paid for-- and then Miah met up with us--- and so began the "worst of times". (again, dramatic... I realize that.) We were heading to practice for worship on Sunday... and I forgot his violin (which he needed) at home. It wouldn't have been so bad except that my friend (whom I haven't been able to connect with in weeks) also was there dropping off her daughter-- and we were attempting a super quick "catch up" conversation and making plans to further "catch up" on another day. Miah was already loaded in the van, sitting in reverse, with the boys and baby Z- all waiting on me. So, now, instead of being early for practice... or even just on time.... now we were running late because we had to run home and back in less than 40 minutes. When I got in the car, Miah was so mad.... and rightly so, I should have just cut my conversation shorter and got in the van right away. He was barking at me about being late and forgetting the violin and that I better text our worship pastor and tell him we were going to be late..... and why did I have to stand there and talk? Why didn't I just get in and go? I'll be the first to admit that when I'm with a friend- time no longer matters to me. I just want to invest time in them and our friendship. Relationships are so important to me. I have tried really hard to be mindful of Miah's feelings about this-- and how much time I "waste" (in his mind) talking about things that aren't "important" (also from his viewpoint). Though, in his defense, he has gotten way better over the years in being super flexible when I have planned an outing with a friend-- he doesn't make me put a time on when I'll be home-- which I am so thankful for.

Moving right along....

Then came the silent treatment. The one where I can tell he is just seething but won't talk to me. And at this point, it doesn't matter how much I apologize, because it doesn't change what happened. So I've pretty much given up and am sitting quietly in the van-- only speaking to answer the boys as they chatter away in the back. Mind you, the silent treatment wouldn't be so bad except that I'm super sensitive to it. That kind of response almost kills me. I know I'm overly sensitive to it and usually have to spend a TON of time praying through it-- and last night was no different. It just hits me... right where it hurts the most... and then lingers for what feels like forever. I managed to hold it together through practice, all the way home (more silent treatment), and most of the evening. Miah was hungry when we got home and asked me to run to get him something to eat. I did (though not with the best attitude-- I really wasn't all about serving him at that moment)-- and when I was out, I cried. Not the all out sobs that you see in the movies when someone is deeply hurt, but more of the quiet wondering where I went wrong kind of crying. And then I took the road. The road I spent much time on in the past. I traveled that path in my mind that said "See- you totally don't deserve to be his wife." and "You're such a screw up." and "You should have had it all together-- what's your problem.". I didn't stay long there-- but I did go. And then, again, Jesus coaxed me off that path-- and reminded me that my worth is found in him. No where else. I could almost see him holding my face in his hands-- staring into my eyes-- telling me over and over "There's grace for you". And then I cried some more.

We pretty much went to bed without talking-- and I wrestled with myself almost all night long. If I could just pinpoint where I really screwed up- maybe I could make things better.

So today, we chatted with each other online-- and I figured out where it was I went wrong. Remember how I said Miah was under a lot of stress? I had completely forgotten to ask him about his day-- and I guess that was the "straw that broke the camel's back" in a manner of speaking. He had a terrible day and here I was all happy and proud I made it somewhere on time-- and managed an extra child on top of it. So, the violin and the chatting and everything else just piled on top of an already crappy situation. I really wish he would have just said something sooner so we could have skipped over all the yuck. But now I know... and I made it as right as I can make it and promised to do better in the future. That's all I can offer right now.

He did apologize for being hurtful and rude-- though these wounds aren't so quick to close. I am still trying to cling to Jesus and at the same time feeling awfully tempted to walk that well-trodden path again. I'm tempted to dwell on all the ways I'm a failure at being a mother, wife, and servant. And even now, feeling the tears well up in my eyes.

Jesus, sweet Jesus. I am again, for the millionth time today, returning all the feelings/hurts/wounds to your hands. Its so hard for me to leave it with you. Being hurt this way brings up too many old feelings and I need to keep handing them over to you. Please continue to minister to me through your spirit and continue to remind me of who I am in you. Because that is all that really matters-- how you see me and what you think of me.