Some days… some days bring me to my knees, and you can follow my path through the thorns by the drops of blood left behind. It is never far from the surface that I am one person trying to meet the needs of three little human beings. But it’s not only their needs I must meet- which are great and deep- but I must manage a regular life too. The bills, insurance, rent, gas in the car, the garbage, Scouts, homework, baths, laundry, cooking meals, bedtimes, IEP meetings for my autistic son, dentist and doctor appointments, school registration for them AND for me, church, callings, visiting-teaching and being taught, scripture study, FHE, and that doesn’t even begin to touch on the personal. The grieving we are all experiencing- that is always just beneath the surface. The acting out. The child who crawls in bed with me and weeps into my shoulder. The little girl who tells her dolls that she doesn’t have a dad anymore.
Everything on my list is likely on the list of every other woman reading this- I’m not special. The only difference? There is no one to share the weight. Child has an ear infection? Take all of them to the doctor. Out of milk? Everyone in the car. Need the Rx filled for the ear? Let’s go, buckle up. Kid with stomach flu and you’re out of bleach? It’s all you, baby. There is no “divide and conquer” anymore.
Yesterday was one of those days that left bloody footprints all over my life. By dusk, I had put all the kids in their rooms while I stood in the kitchen with the broom I had just broken trying to get a Lego from under the stove, and I cried my eyes out. So many things had gone wrong that day I figured sending them to bed to read was the best thing for all parties. You’ve had days like that. Days when your husband was on a business trip and you were counting the hours until he got home because you were so exhausted? I’ve been there. I remember that feeling. I would love that feeling now- the anxiety coupled with the anticipation that surely you could make it till Friday… what a relief Friday would be. Only now, Friday is never coming.
Dandelion Mama 
I am sending out messages from my content heart to your unsettled one— lots of love to you. And support. And “you can do its”. I feel for you Tracy. xoxoxo
Tracy, much love! And prayers! And support (through the distance)!
You are amazing is an understatement. You manage to paint a picture with words and yet keep picking yourself up, dusting yourself off, and making it through yet one more day. I have hope your Friday will come sometime in the future, but until then may you blessed with added patience, extra support, and love from those near and far.
I hear what you’re saying, my DH is out of town, until tomorrow.
A year and a half ago I felt life was so hard it was hard to smile and breathe. When you’re in it you can’t imagine Friday will ever come. Now I’m past Friday and into a Saturday and it feels so great. I can’t imagine that it would feel so good if it weren’t for the horrid time before, the Tuesday Wednesday Thursdays. The bitter makes the sweet oh so sweet. Your Friday will come, in one form or another. Meanwhile I’m bracing for a Monday that is sure to be around the corner, because that’s the way life works.
Hugs, Tracy. It’s hard when you can’t see into the darkness to find the beginning of Friday. Just take each second as it comes. “Endure well enough for now.” Love you!
I know this post was a long time ago, but I remember these days so well. My children are now 19 and 22, but reading this brought all those years alone with just them back to the forefront of my mind and reminded me how faithful God was through all of it.