Selflessness: Not a Popular Choice

          It has been one of those weeks (or maybe months) where it just feels like one onslaught after another. I start to gain some momentum, get on top of things and before I can enjoy the quiet, or the clean, or the money in the bank a tornado of life comes through and leaves noise, dirt, and need in its wake.

         Our days around here are never easy.  Anyone with kids, whether you have one or ten, knows that most days are not your own.  My husband usually starts his day trying, in vain, to pray in the quiet before the real chaos starts but he usually ends up reading his Bible with a fussy baby on his knee, or a hungry three-year- old at his feet, until the poopy two-year-old stumbles in asking for water; and this is all before 6:00 a.m.
Sometimes I feel guilty for how hard it is; like I am not taking in the moment enough (you know, all these perfect toddler moments that people are constantly telling me I am going to miss one day), like it's my fault it's hard because I just have the wrong attitude.

           Sometimes that's true; sometimes I do just need a major attitude adjustment.   But most of the time it's just hard. Life is full of struggle, a tapestry woven with laughter and grief, joy and sorrow, peace and anxiety, success and failure.   The world is constantly reminding me that we didn't have to have so many kids, and I'd be lying if I said I don't sometimes remember with great fondness the simplicity of having two or three, but then I remember that that was super hard too.  It's all about perspective.  And every day I have to remind myself why we do it.  Because it has nothing to do with me.  
         
                 But then there's days like today, when I start out thinking it's the normal amount of hard, squeaking by until the next pay check, but making it, dealing with the dirt and the clutter, and the fatigue.   And then I find out that two of my kids need their tonsils and adenoids out, and we have to pay up front, and no we shouldn't put it off too long; and of course I didn't think to look into all this when the deductible was met in June. So just when we thought we could (maybe) go a year without meeting the deductible (i.e. go a year without having a baby) we will probably meet it in March.  Oh, and they want us to pay up front (?!).   Then I look at my house and the laundry seems dirtier, the floor a new kind of filthy, dinner an unbelievable obstacle in both thought and deed and I can't decide if I should cry or eat the entire tray of brownies my dear friend just gave me in honor of the Feast of the Presentation.

            Then the holy spirit whispers a gentle reminder; "think of the presentation of Our Lord, think of the purification at the temple. All you can do is bring Him what you have; make an offering and He will bless it."  Even if you aren't quite sure about all this holiness talk, if you have kids you are intimately familiar with the act of offering up yourself, everyday, all day long.  Having a family requires selflessness, that's why our culture hates children so much. That's why you're supposed to stop at a respectable number, so you can get your life back.  But I have discovered, since I am so inept at doing this myself, so bad at putting myself last, that if I present it ALL to God, the good, the bad, and the ugly he responds with His life.
           
              Mary didn't have to bring Jesus to the Temple, she knew he was without sin.  She didn't need purification because she too was without sin.  But she humbly did all that was expected of her and all that the law required of her for this child that was Man and God.  We are reminded of the beauty of being reminded of our nothingness, our unworthiness, our need for purification and redemption.  Mary was poor.  All she and Joseph could bring were two small birds, not a lamb or a goat, and yet that was all God required of them even for the presentation of His only Son.

           So what is he asking of me?  What is he asking of us?  To bring what we have, all we have, especially when it doesn't feel like enough, especially when it feels like nothing at all.  I can bring my bad attitude, my self-pity, my frustration, my empty pockets, my dirty house, my children's souls and futures, my marriage and all the weight of this life and I can offer it up.   And I can bring the beautiful, unbelievable gifts and blessings, the really good days, the joy and laughter, the health and happiness. I can bring it all:

I can give Him this smile,

           

And this soul,

And their future,

And their health,

And I can remember that none of it is really mine to give anyway since all of this is just a gift, given by the One who knows me best, given to purify, and refine, and bless.

           I am not at all sure about what God has in mind for us right now; I don't know why it sometimes has to be so hard.  But I do know that he always gives us what we need; usually nothing extra, but always what we need.   I know that our children are not part of the burden but the biggest part of the blessing (even if we do have to spend $5,000 to get some tonsils cut out) and I know that if I look anywhere but Christ and His Church for answers I will only get lost in the impossibility of it all.  At least that's how I feel today.  But I have been at this long enough to know that sometimes the sun sets and a new day dawns and without explanation everything looks a little better and it's not quite as hard as it was the day before.