as time disappears

As I was making my bed this afternoon, for a moment, I felt like it should be February still.  Since Tuesday is our sheet-washing day here, in the earlier months of the year, I often ended up making the beds in the evening, while almost everyone else was gone to Upward practice.  So today, even though there was sunshine streaming in through the windows, I was caught off-guard for a moment by the realization that this is May.

Honestly, my heart sank a bit.  It’s not that I have any interest in five o’clock sunsets or piles of snow.  It’s that time seems to be slipping through my fingers.  Maybe it’s because I couldn’t stop yelling at my kids today.  I could say it was because I didn’t sleep well, or because the baby is sick, or because attitudes were atrocious – but the truth is that it’s just me.  I know it is.  This self-control issue that I just can’t get a handle on, no matter how many times I repent, or plead for God’s help, or think maybe I’m starting to do better.

And when I am blindsided by the disappearance of my days, I think about how fast my opportunities to demonstrate kindness and grace and patience are being swallowed into history.  I wonder at how my vision gets so filled with momentary cares that I completely lose sight of what’s important.  I try to adjust my perspective by spending time in worship…but really?…so many songs make me feel like a hypocrite, because I know that I can’t honestly claim that my life and my days are all His, or that they demonstrate any belief that He is holy or worthy or good.

Does He see me as a hypocrite when I can’t manage even the most basic effort to do what’s right in His eyes?  How far do His mercy and grace extend?  Will He work in my kids despite my terrible example?  Can He possibly have any use for me when I can’t even get this most important job – of helping my kids see Jesus – right?

I know that nobody’s perfect.  I understand that my children need to see my brokenness to get a clear picture of what Jesus has done for me, but there are times when I have a hard time believing that they would want to be anything like me, or want to serve the God that I claim to serve as I’m throwing a fit.  And maybe the worst part of it is that all of this can go through my mind and I still don’t change.  I hate who I am but I feel helpless to change.  And time is running out to do better.

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