Round and round it goes, us clinging to its sides, unknowingly. Days pass in a fleet of minutes, long drives through the country flashing past in a flurry of barns backlit by a fierce sun, horses pulling buggies, bare trees silhouetted against blue sky and white fluffy clouds. Then it stands still, in minutes of fierce driving through snow so thick I can just make out a set of tracks. Minutes feel like hours as I follow the tracks closely, praying that the car ahead didn't go into the ditch because if it did, I'm coming too. The whiteout ends and time resumes its fast spin.
Time keeps spinning with diaper changes, conversation jumps, cups of tea, mediating between preschoolers and feeding kids. The return drive flickers past, moments of beauty blending into each other, nourishing my soul, making me long for a driver and my camera. Little boy naps, brief moment alone speeding past and then into the grocery store, rushing before kids come home, all blurring fast, the world still spinning.
With teacher's quiet words, the world stops again and all comes crashing down. Little girl wrote "I am bad" in a description about herself. My heart breaks. The children fight, refusing to listen, to work together. I am crumpled, standing there crying, leaning against the van. Despair lingers, children continue to scream. The phone rings and rings and rings as I open my door, trying to enter with bags of groceries and disgruntled children. Finally, I answer. My mother in crisis calls to update me, only to find my world crashing to a halt. She musters the cavalry and over she and dad come to start my world spinning again.
She brings cookbook, Beth Moore audiobook, and her crocheting. This time the project is for me, a bright shawl/poncho made with ribbon yarn. I model it several times. My dad plays with the kids, working with my oldest boy on his reading. While I bring in the rest of the groceries, he convinces Zane to put on a shirt, and dresses Kian in shorts, a t-shirt and socks pulled up to his knees. Strange winter attire, but better than his previous nudity. The world starts to spin again, slowly. My heart is still heavy, but no longer bogged down.
We go to our Lifegroup where they play the latest message from LifeChurch on overcoming. I am encouraged, challenged, hopeful. The little girl disobeys, plunging into despair again. But this time, I have hope. We will overcome. My world doesn't stop. I pray, we chat and I come up with a plan. We will start tracking her obedience, chart it and then start memorizing scripture. And I will pray for this dear little girl who is not a failure, not a problem, but a beloved child of God, just like her mom. Just like that, my world is spinning, restored. I can go to bed now.
Joining with the broken redeemed at