Oh, Jesus Help Me

And I am not using the Lord's name in vain, here, people. That's a genuine shout-out to the Almighty.

Dear Lord,

Please help me understand why I must say more than once, "Joel, do not tie your brother up."

Guide me, Lord, in finding my path through the laundry, Legos, and action figures to what I am supposed to be doing with the gifts you have given me.

Give me the willpower to drive right on by Starbucks each of the 236 times per week that my errands take me anywhere in the vicinity.

Please make your presence known to me in those moments when I am struggling with feelings of rage over the fact that roughly 20% of the popcorn that my boys just popped doesn't make it to their mouths from the bowl - somehow losing its way and ending up on the couch or floor.

Are you there, God? It's me, Holly.

Impart to me the wisdom, Lord, of why a grande, non-fat, two-pump mocha with light whipped cream is as addictive as I imagine crack cocaine to be.

Is there a particular reason, God, why boys never want to bathe? And what is so great and funny about all of those noises that their bodies seem to naturally make?

Lord, will there ever be a day in this lifetime that I feel worthy of the job you've put me in?

Please help me come to terms with the fact that my house will be a mess and in disrepair until I finish raising these three boys; and remind me from time to time that the dents in the walls, the loose banister, and toys in the landscaping are all signs that this home is filled with a family.

Help me do my best, Lord, and when I can't seem to do that - please carry me until I can.

photo by Steve Woods