At The End Of The Day
I'm sitting in the quiet of our home trying to figure out this day. This day of difficulty. This day of wishing my daughter would stop her ear-piercing screeching. The one that sends shivers down your spine and makes the hairs on your neck stand tall.
This day of wishing I knew how to help Elias be less stubborn. Eating glue in Sunday school and spitting water on the floor left me in tears after church. Sometimes I just don't want to deal with it.
This day of leaving the house to escape the heat of my hot tempered redhead. We both needed a break.
And how is it that as they all sleep and I try to figure out this day, I simply can't. But instead I fall more in love with them. The amount of imperfection in our home is a reminder that we all need grace. No one has it more together than anyone else.
I guess we all have our days of screeching, being stubborn, and having a hot temper. This day just happened to have it all wrapped into one.
And as I sit here and write, I keep glancing over at the pictures hanging on my wall, pictures that represent the best parts of my life. And as I try to figure out this day, I become content—I wouldn't trade this day for anything.