Formation

This has been a hard week. The last eight days have truly challenged me to the core. I've already told you about last Monday and the injury to middle daughter's mouth. The next day was a rare long work day for me. Wednesday was marked by another trip to the dentist. Thursday was my son's first day of school and Friday was about a broken heart and dinner guests. Saturday was lost to painting my toddler's new room, a hurricane blowing through, and a stomach bug. Sunday was engulfed in reorganizing a playroom and tending to the sick. Today was monopolized by having teeth pulled. Wow! Three of these events stand out to me because in them, I felt my soul being shaped.

Thursday was a marathon day. We had all the excitement of a first day of school (I was especially excited). But then, the girls had dance in the afternoon. After such a long week already this day stretched on forever. In the midst of mile 17 or so, my middle one responded to me with such hatred and violence that I was crushed. None of my children have ever been so angry with me. I know that you veteran moms will tell me that it is only to be expected but I was devastated. My heart broke that this child who is so like me could hate me. We weren't even fighting about something negotiable and she physically responded with anger. It took a full 24 hours for me reflect on the fact that her passion for life lends itself to ups and downs. The violence was inexcusable and was treated as such. But, she and I were both being shaped then and in the aftermath. My temper flares more readily for her than the others and she detests feeling squashed. I must constantly balance her need to be truly herself with my need to be in control. I'm trying to take that lesson to heart.

Friday was marked by our oldest coming home from first grade with heart broken by the unkind words of a classmate. His name calling and gossip left her in tears. I was so grateful for my husband's calming presence as we talked with her. Momma Bear was ready to attack. Daddy helped her seek the heart of Christ in her response. I was reminded again of my passion for these kids that I bore and my need to have that passion checked by the Spirit that is growing inside me every day. It is more important to model and impart the Way than to protect them. That lesson brings me to tears.

Finally, Sunday. The middle one woke during Saturday night, a reality that we refer to as "The Curse" in a minister's household, very sick. I stayed home with her and sent the other two with friends to church. Daddy had left very early for his longest work day of the week. I was reminded that congregational worship is at the core of my week. My soul is thirsty and the water of worshiping with the group that we call family is a unique thirst quencher. Yes, in many ways, Sunday is work day for me as well, even if the paycheck doesn't have my name on it and the job description is sketchy. But it is more than work. It is the day that I engage purposefully in being part of a community that seeks Christ. It is the day that we together profess that Christ is head of our church and our individual lives. It is the day that we put aside the struggles we face as a community and individuals to declare with one voice that Jesus is sovereign. It is the day that I am reminded of why we live this life of ministry. There is hole in my week. This is a lesson that I cherish.

In this long week, I am confident that God has been moving to create in me a heart more like Jesus'. I believe that the Spirit in me has grown to take over impulses of my human self. I know that God has been near. That is the hope that makes formation a worthwhile endeavor.