It’s 8:49 am. I made it to the office before nine today, which has me feeling quite accomplished.
And also exhausted.
It’s nothing big. But in addition to the usual routines which involve fixing breakfast and preparing school lunches, this morning has had more than its fair share of hiccups:
First, the kindergartener can’t find his underwear. Then, he is ‘too scared to go upstairs all by himself’ to get an extra pair. In the meantime, the preschooler has lost his socks. After we’re well on our way to drop off our exchange student at Lincoln High, the kindergartener realizes he forgot his backpack with the tennis shoes which he needs for PE, and so he is freaking out. After we swing back home, I’m faced with the next meltdown by the preschooler who “needs his coloring book!” As I get out of the car to let the kindergartener out, I step into the fresh snow. That’s when I realize I forgot the protective cover for my post-op boot (which is supposed to stay ‘dry and clean’ after my toe surgery). So back home to change a wet sock — might as well pick up that darn coloring book. Back in the car, the preschooler again: This is my brother’s, not mine!
Thank God for the exchange student who is delightfully low maintenance and the little girl who for once decided to sleep through all the drama! Have I said I feel exhausted?
My first instinct is to write a long rant on Facebook. But then again: what if instead of the much coveted sympathy people started lecturing? You know: “I would never turn around to get the backpack for my kid.” / “Let him go to school without his shoes. He will never forget them again.” / “Back in my day, my kids would dress themselves when they were 6 weeks old…!”
The thing is, parenting is hard, and I am well aware that I don’t have it all together. In fact, it is moments like these when it feels like I am doing everything wrong, when the feeling of exhaustion morphs into defeat.
Which is exactly the point I was trying to make in my sermon on Sunday: that when you have that sinking feeling, hardly any word of advice, no matter how good or how well intended, will be heard as Good News. When I struggle and feel overwhelmed, I am not really open to comments that sound like “you’re doing it all wrong” or “you just have to try harder.”
But what does sound, look, feel like Good News?
Maybe a compassionate, knowing smile.
A vulnerable sharing in the struggle.
Maybe an outstretched hand?
Now about that resistance to accept help when it is offered… but that’s a topic for another day!
Prayer: You are not a God who lectures, but you sympathize with those who struggle. Help us that rather than judging or trying to “fix others” we learn to be compassionate: to others — and ourselves. Amen.
Rev. Thomas Dummermuth
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