A Thrill of Hope
This morning, we were late to my 4- year old son’s behavioral therapy session due to a gross poop situation that threatened my beautiful new wallpaper painstakingly selected from the Joanna Gaines collection. During his therapy, I had six boxes of candy canes for the other three kids to hang individual candy canes on random car door handles for their daily Christmas service project. My six-year old, dressed in shorts (in 45 degree weather), hoodie, my grandad’s old newsie cap, and sunglasses because “she wanted to look extra cool” griped the whole time, my other 4-year old whined because she couldn’t reach any car door handles (she totally could), and my 2-year old darted in and out of traffic with me chasing him, lugging the huge sack of candy canes. This lasted for 15 minutes even though it was an activity I thought would last for the entire therapy session. I waved the white flag of surrender and turned on Frozen in our van.
All of this before 10am.
I’m tired, y’all.
We have four unique, energetic/slightly feral, beautiful, quirky, whiny, cheerio-loving, amazing children all under the age of 6. The laundry never ends. The snack begging never ends. The cycle of them riding their bikes around the kitchen island while I’m cooking dinner- telling them to put the bikes back in the storage room- giving up and doing it myself- them getting the bikes back out again never ends.
I love my family, but I’m tired.
I started a new job at the church. There are parts that I feel like I’m kind of good at, and it gives me the confidence I’ve lacked in other jobs. There are parts that I find challenging, and I like that because I’m using my brain in a totally different way than I do as a stay-at-home mom. And then there have been some major hiccups. Like I’ve made some big mistakes. And while messing up crushes a part of me, the experience has allowed fellow staff to show me patience, mercy, and grace, all of which help me grow.
I really do like my new job, but I’m tired.
There are a hundred things coming at me every which way, all day long that make me tired, overwhelmed, and frustrated. But there are a few specific things that are causing weariness in my life. I don’t let myself go down the thoughts rabbit hole because the weight of my weariness can really bog me down.
Like when it rains. I worry about where one of my children’s Birthmother is, and if she is safe in the storm. Thinking about her situation and the situation my son was born into breaks my heart and makes me weary.
Or when I’m scrolling Facebook and I see a post for the Alabama Heart Gallery about a 19-year old boy who has aged out of the system but still longs for a family. I pray he doesn’t feel unwanted and my grief for him makes me weary.
Or when one of my children does something wrong, so I prayerfully attempt to discipline her but then it somehow escalates, and I still end up yelling. I feel like such a failure, and it makes me weary.
I see a homeless person with a sign but I’m running late to get to school pick-up so I just ignore it. Weary.
I think about institutionalized teenagers with Down Syndrome who weigh 40 pounds living in orphanages in Ukraine. Weary.
Babies separated from mothers at the border. Weary.
The list can go on and on if I let it.
During this Christmas season, I sing old Christmas hymns to my kids for their bedtime songs. I do this purely for selfish reasons. We’re so late for church most Sundays so I miss the music there, and I can’t listen to it in the van on the radio because my kids are the most settled if Veggie Tales Silly Songs with Larry is playing. (“I’LL TAKE YOU TO THE BALL, BARBARA MANATEE!” To anyone reading this who doesn’t know all the words to Endangered Love, track 10, then congratulations on making better life choices than I have. Also- could someone please break into my van and light this cd on fire!?!) Turns out the only time I hear Christmas carols is during bedtime when the kids have to listen to me because it’s the only option
Despite my HORRIBLE singing voice, it’s a sweet time with my kids, sometimes. It’s dark and sort of quiet. They’re getting comfy cozy. While I sing these songs I’ve heard my whole life, I’ve been really thinking about the lyrics.
There are two lines in O Holy Night that have been both breaking me and mending me all in the matter of a moment every single time I sing it:
“A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.”
There is much to be weary about in all of our lives. Maybe your marriage is headed to divorce. Maybe you’re not married at all but really really want to be. Infertility is wrecking your vision of your life. Your grown-up child doesn’t walk with the Lord. The cancer is back. Your daughter is unmarried and pregnant. You had an abortion. You can’t find a job. You hate your job. Your mom died this year. Your friend is hooked on pain pills.
You are weary. But you too can take hold and claim that thrill of hope. Hope in God’s great rescue plan for His weary children. We get a glimpse of this gift at Christmas; in this Silent and Holy Night.
I think about the words from my son’s behavioral therapist, “God wired the brain for healing.” Every time she says that I feel a little tingle of hope. Because so much about my son makes me tired, angry, frustrated, overwhelmed, and utterly weary. But as he’s lying in his bed, under his comfy cozy covers, being marginally still, I think about all that Christ did on the cross for my son, and for me, and for you, and for everyone, and I feel it- that thrill of hope.
When I think about the great, mysterious love of the gospel. A thrill of hope.
About our world being so weary and in utter need of a Savior. The weary world rejoices.
I’ll leave you with this shaky video of my son in his preschool Christmas program. He’s a hard-to-wrangle- kid. There are a lot of days when I worry there was no positive interaction in our relationship. But during this program, he up and decided to “spice up” Feliz Navidad a little bit. Moments like this are rare and bring me incredible joy….. a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.