Today my heart is heavy. Tears hover just beneath the surface, waiting for the smallest invitation. I have a couple friends that are going through really hard times right now. Facing troubles of proportions I cannot comprehend. Where their options are only between 'bad' and 'worse' and the heartache in front of them is measured in years and not days. In fact, it feels that everywhere I look, people I love are struggling, being beaten down by the circumstances of their life, some a result of their own unfortunate choices and others from no fault of their own.

And today the beauty in life feels overshadowed by how often things are just hard and dark and scary. How sad it is that our lives are almost guaranteed to come with heartache. And I find myself willing my children to stay small. To stay with me where I can guard their hearts and keep them safe. Where they never have to experience the pain of watching their child suffer or their dreams crumble before their eyes. Where they will never experience a morning where just getting out of bed seems more than they can bear. What I would give for them to always see the world through the rose colored gossamer that their blessed childhood affords them.

And more than ever before, I am thankful for my absolute belief that this isn't all their is. That this world is just a stepping stone in our journey, and better things are yet to come. And in that there is hope, even when this world seems void of it.

"He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." Rev. 21:4

To my friends that are hurting, I am praying for you, and would give anything to ease your pain. I love you, and share your burdens in every step of my day.

Updated

Back in November I wrote this:

Computer is dying. Something about blogging made it sick months ago. And it has been in a state of gradual decline ever since. Getting out of Google-Reader to comment on blogs is like trudging through a pool of sludge. It requires much patience and prayer. And if there are graphics, or ads or layers on your page, it's almost hopeless. I click that link and walk away, to get a cup of coffee or fold some laundry, then come back to see if it was able to accomplish the task, or if it locked up passed out from the effort. And sometimes now, mid keystroke, it just turns itself off. Jumping ship. Grumpy and overloaded, it stubbornly refuses to do one thing more. I know how it feels.

The Man has been voicing loudly the need to reformat. That the best thing for computer is a fresh start. While I know this may be true, I have been resisting. Because The Man, while very nice to look at, and quite accomplished at many things, tends to leave things in a slightly altered state when he fixes them.

He's actually quite a whiz at computers. He has written code for program after program to do tasks as simple as manage our contacts or as complicated as run his business. But the last time he reformatted he wiped the information out of said contact manager completely, leaving me floundering on how to reach the voice teacher. Or my mother.

And it's not just computers. The toilets he has repaired do work, but with little irritating quirks that weren't there before. "Someone go jiggle the toilet thing" is now a daily request around here. And so, I have been understandably resistant, worrying what I would lose.

But I have surrendered. Computer is in pain and we need to do what's best for him. You know, so I can get back to surfing and commenting at will. Because I have a lot to say. And because it's Christmas time. And I need to s-h-o-p people.

So I ask you all to say a prayer for computer and his trip to The Man's hospital this weekend. That we would come through the other side new and refreshed and without any significant memory loss. That afterwards he would be able to do his work easily with the passion he once had. Opening up window after window with ease. That he would be well again, completely well.

With no jiggling required.

******************

And now, three months later, I will give you an update.

The Man did not reformat computer in November or December or January. I switched to Firefox which helped some and trusty ol' computer continued to hobble and limp along long after it should, while grumbling loudly and still occasionally turning itself off completely in disgust when it just simply could not take another step.

But then, this weekend, I ran away from home went out of town with some girlfriends. And when I returned home, computer had gone under the knife. He had some things upgraded, some things tweaked and was given the fresh start he so badly needed. The Man had worked his technical magic. Computer is now lightning fast and no longer makes regular groans of pain. And so far I haven't had to jiggle a thing.

Computer geeks are so hot.

*****************
And if you know me in real life, let's just say that for reasons I am forbidden to mention, your contact information may have, well, once again mysteriously disappeared. So call me and tell me where you live and stuff....Please.

Lollipop, Lollipop

Also known as Why My House is Always Sticky...

For Wordless Wednesday

Tuesday, Tuesday

I managed to pull myself up by my bootstraps and out of my glum yesterday, by bundling the kids up and bringing them outside. I pulled the Weekids up and down the road in the wagon and then played soccer with Ben while Clara systematically coated her body with mud created from the rains the night before. It was worth it. The fresh air and exercise did us all a wealth of good. Then, after giving the mudpie a scrub down, I loaded up all 5 kids (my own plus one more) and brought them to Burger King for more exercise and a healthy dose of grease.

This too was a worthy trade off. Tired, and with their bodies full of food lead, Ben and Clara slept most of the afternoon. Allowing me to do some work on my Bible Study and have some down time. I didn't get much of anything checked off the Monday list: Clothes to tag for consignment, 64 loads of laundry (I completed one) but it turns out those things are still there, patiently - or not so patiently, in the case of the laundry - waiting for me today.

Today, however, after I drop Ben at the church where he attends preschool, I have to go to my own church and put in an application to work in their preschool next year. I enrolled Clara in preschool for next year with Ben and when I suddenly realized what their combined monthly tuition would be, it left me reeling a bit. It was, in fact, a fairly low number and shouldn't have been a surprise, but with money still tight in the Chaotic household it would be difficult for us. So I decided to apply to work in my own church's very large preschool program where my paltry salary and, more importantly, discounted tuition, will offset this expense.

I am a bit disappointed that I would have to change Ben's school to realize this savings, but the sad truth is, I am not confident of my ability to get a job where he goes to school now. It is a much smaller program, and well, I am not sure the last two years have left them with an exemplary impression of me as a together mom. It is not uncommon for me to drop Ben off late with Clara screaming at his departure, and I, at least partially, still in my pajamas.

And so I will apply at my own church, where I have served many years as a volunteer in the children's program and have many people on staff that, I hope, would vouch for my reliability and heart for children. And, most of all, no images of me bedraggled in a baseball hat and bunny slippers fresh in their mind.

In short, after 10 years, I think I still have most of them fooled that I've got my act together.

Oh and if you go to my church and are reading this...You're on to me now. Shhhh.

Monday, Monday.

On Sunday night I go to bed, full of plans and resolutions for the week ahead of me: Things to accomplish, abstain from, correct in my heart. So why is it that every Monday morning I want nothing more than to stay in my bed, under my covers and try to forget what I have resolved?

Coffee anyone? I am on my third cup and so far it's done nothing to make me enthusiastic about the week ahead of me. It's indistinguishability from the weeks before is defeating me.

That and a certain toddler's rage that her brother wants to play monster-bowling in his room...alone.

Valentine's Day.

So yesterday was Valentine's Day. This day does not fall heavily on the Chaotic Household's calendar. Lately, I had rolled around the idea that I should be more like Beck and Ginger. Making each holiday special for my children. Depositing a coin into their treasure chest of memories, so to speak. I should make heart shaped pancakes for breakfast and home-made Valentine's for Ben's class.

And then I woke up. This is me we are talking about here.

We celebrated Valentine's day by finally getting the boxes of Christmas decorations back up in the attic. Nothing like a holiday in mid-February to remind us that the red and green bins still sitting in the hallway have been there too long. That's classiness for ya right there. I also mopped my floors. Which is to say I mopped the whole upstairs level of our home. Something else I had been planning on doing for at least a month. It became apparent it might be past time when I asked Brandon why he had gone outside without shoes on as now the bottom of his feet were black. He proclaimed indignantly that he had not left the kitchen. It was, in fact, only 9:00AM. Ahem. Praise God for badly in need of refinishing rustic hardwoods and their ability to conceal dirt.

And then, after that, because I wasn't feeling well (darn polyp) I took a nap. And, lest you think I boycotted the holiday completely I did give each of my children a small Valentine's treat and I sent Ben to school with his requisite bag of store bought Valentines. Power Rangers for those of you who care. Ben has never seen Power Rangers but, like Spiderman, is certain they are cool beyond measure. He also pretends to be a Power Ranger which just seems to involve standing with either a leg or an arm jutting out in a weird angle.

I also decided that in the spirit of my abandoned diet the holiday to make a special treat after dinner. I made brownies (from a box-sorry Beck) and attempted to cut them into heart shapes to make Valentine brownie sundaes. It didn't work and we ended up eating little piles of brownie goop with a scoop of ice cream on top during our family devotional.

While we were sitting there, eating my masterpiece, I declared, "I mopped the floors today."

"Wow, impressive." The Man declared enthusiastically.

"These brownies were supposed to be shaped like hearts" I confessed.

"Still taste good like this", Brandon mumbled with his mouth full.

"Mom gave me gummie worms for Valentine's Day!" Allison bragged happily.

And therein lies the key to a Happy Holiday in the Chaotic Household:

Low Expectations.

So much for wordless...

Clara is heartbroken. She sits on my lap wailing with toddler abandon into my chest. She repeats the same words over and over. "Is Boo Boo? Is Boo Boo?"

Boo Boo - the nickname we have for her brother. With urgent insistence she makes her demands, as clear to me as if she had said, "Where's Ben? I need him. Please go get him." I try to console her, repeating words that are now like a mantra. "Boo boo's not here. He's at school" and then she cries harder, her sadness momentarily replaced with anger at being denied what she wants most. In finally learning how to speak her wishes she believes she has earned the right to have them answered, immediately and without question.

And then her anger gives away again to grief and she asks again, plaintive and frustrated, certain I must not have understood. "Is Boo Boo?" And the cycle begins again. Anger and sadness tumbling over each other like kittens. We've been doing this for ages now, minutes that feel like hours. And it was the same yesterday. And will be again tomorrow.

Clara misses Ben.

I remember when I made plans for this school year. Ben would go to preschool 3 days a week and I would have those mornings alone with Clara for some special time together. To get some things accomplished. And I think it actually was like that at some point. I remember it vaguely, like a pleasant dream. Laundry and housekeeping interspersed between play dates and books, stacking rings and snuggles. Was it really only a few months ago?

At some point, however, my spot at the center of Clara's universe was displaced by the silly, sandy haired three-year-old in my home. Her love for Ben is now an obsessive, all-consuming first-love kind of love. (Albeit a trashy version that includes public screaming matches and occasional violence.) "Is Boo Boo?" are the first words she utters when she wakes up each morning. "Is Boo Boo?" is what she says each time she cannot locate him. "Is Boo Boo..." off and on for hours each morning he attends school unless I spend every moment distracting her in play. I now count the minutes until he gets home, so I can have a reprieve, and accomplish something without a distraught toddler hanging on my leg.

I should be thankful she adores him so. And I am. Mostly I am. In fact, in a bizarre way, it is an answer to a prayer given when she was born. Lord, let my children grow to love each other. And they have. For Ben loves Clara as well, in a less intense, doting kind of way. He says often "I am glad we had a baby sister" and my heart melts right then and turns into a puddle on the floor. Thank you, Lord.

But this. This new need to be with him constantly, it does not bode well for our Clara. Even now, I am seeing Ben start to crack under her unrelenting attention. Pushing her away as she throws herself on top of him to smother him with affection when he awakes from his nap. Locking himself in his room to play with trains, while she sits outside the door screaming. Saying, earnestly to me "Clara needs to take a nap." Translation: "Please, mom, I love her but I need a break." And who can blame him, it is a tiresome, endless job even for one who is thankful she is here.

And I am reminded yet again of a love affair. One that is hopelessly, jealously lopsided. And as she sits on my lap wailing for him, off at school and thankful for his hours of freedom, I know she has a long road ahead of her. A road that will hold much disappointment and waiting between her hours of joy. It's the road of one who loves unequally.

And to her, for now, he is worth it.