Equipped for the Day

Of all the subjects my little girl and I tackle, handwriting  is the biggest struggle.  I structure the day so that the morning is full of teaching new concepts and "seat work"-worksheets, art, or coloring she works on independently.  After lunch and her nap (thankfully she still consistently takes one), she works on afternoon writing.  Attempts to work on it is a more apt description.  It doesn't seem to matter what letter is on the agenda, there is balking, whining, and tears.  The struggle has often been so severe, that I have wondered if she honestly could not do what I was asking.  Were her motor skills a little behind and her finite control needed to write was simply not yet developed?  But whenever I would seriously consider waiting to teach writing, she would produce near flawless letters.  SHE CAN DO IT.   It must simply something she hates to do.  Or maybe something she has decided she cannot do, because it is the hardest thing she has faced so far, something that requires sustained effort and diligence.

Several weeks ago, her resistance took on a new and unexpected twist of kindergarten logic.  When I assigned her the letter of the day and handed her the practice paper, she dissolved in tears.  "Mom, I know I can't do it!  I know it.  Look!  I'm supposed to make a curve going this way for a little 'c' but I know I won't; my hand will just go the opposite way.  I know it will.  I can't do it.  I can't go the right way."  I didn't know exactly what to say.  At the moment all my effort was directed towards not cracking even the hint of a smile.  Didn't my silly but very capable little girl know who was in charge of her hand?  She could direct it where it should go.  I had taught her the steps, given her tools necessary to accomplish the task that I knew she could do.  The only thing hindering her success was her discouraged attitude.  Her determination to believe she could not achieve what I required.

Lately, I have been completely overwhelmed by my duties at home.  I know that part of my frustration is due to the heaviness of my body and spirit as I near the arrival of our newest.  (I have never been one of the fortunate women who experience a burst of energy in the final month.  Even "nesting" alludes me.).   I am tired and aching and sore nearly every moment of the day.  But I can't blame my feeling of I-am-never-caught-up-and-see-no-point-at-which-I-will-be solely on late pregnancy.  I completely empathize with a salmon swimming upstream, except that I never seem to get to the end of my journey.  I try.  Oh so desperately.  I am up by 6:30.  We try to start school by nine.  While seat work is being done, I do laundry or vacuum.  But then there is lunch to be made, fed to the two hungry ones, kitchen to be cleaned.  Before naps, a diaper needs to be changed, a dispute over the Thomas train must be settled, and odds and ends need to be put away.  It seems never ending.  I have big plans for each day, but daily upkeep is either an elusive goal or a laughable dream.     Bathrooms cleaned, furniture dusted, floors swept, ironing completed.  The list is never ending and almost never touched.

Feeling overwhelmed and unproductive is one thing, but I have discovered that very quickly these feelings spiral into either self-pity or a sense of failure.  If I were more orderly or organized, I would be able to get more done.  No, I don't have time to read you two a story; don't you see how messy this room is?  I am irritated and exasperated and frustrated nearly all the time.  What I WANT TO DO is not getting done.  What I NEED TO ACCOMPLISH in order to feel good ABOUT MYSELF isn't happening.  Yesterday, staring at the pile of laundry to be done, I suddenly realized the problem.  God has tasks for each day that He has ordained for me to do, and I have never asked Him what He wants for me to accomplish.  If He has called me to teach and lead my children-the most precious blessings He has entrusted to me-then surely He has tasks that He knows I can and should do each day.  There is no need for a feeling of failure if I consult Him on what the day should hold.   Even more exciting  is that HE will graciously equip me for all that He requires of me.  WHY HAVE I NOT ASKED HIM WHAT HIS PLANS FOR MY DAYS ARE?  I long to be rid of simply treading water, and know that I am accomplishing eternal purposes each day.  Because I know what my Father ordains for my days is of eternal value and purpose.

Yes, even that hideous stack of laundry can work an eternal purpose in my soul.  Patience.  Diligence.  Sacrifice.  I am being called to relinquish even the mundane in exchange for His plan for my day.  But that means I will also relinquish this burden of failure, of being a less-than homemaker.  He has equipped me,  ordained my days, and delights in my submission to His plans.  "But I can't do it, lord.  If I do what you want, I won't get all these things that need to be done finished.  Dinner will be late.  You will ask me to do something.  I will try and then it won't turn out right."  My thoughts sound vaguely like my little girl's assertion that she had no control over her own hand.  The spirit dwells within me.  If I submit, he will direct my paths each day and not allow my foot to slip in accomplishing his task.  The task He has ordained for me is of eternal worth, and He will accomplish it.  At the end of the day, if my house is spotless and laundry is complete, but the more significant tasks that my Father had prepared for my day are left undone, then I have missed the whole purpose for the day.  And
 my Father's purposes for my day are far superior to anything I can conceive.


"Commit your way to the Lord, Trust also in Him and HE WILL DO IT." -Psalm 37:5