I was in an irksome mood Wednesday morning. Life seemed uncomfortably full and children’s needs seemed intolerably high—a sure recipe for a mother whose patience wears thin by the time the lunch hour rolls around.
Feeling the irritation rising in my chest over the morning’s Advent reading, I made a quick call: I needed a walk. Anyone interested in joining me was welcome. Anyone desiring to stay inside could do so as well. But Momma needed to breathe some fresh air, and marvel at the beauty of what God had wrought in our own little wonderland overnight.
So I rambled.
There were only five of us walking, and that was fine. This wasn’t about burning off energy or checking off an educational goal. This was my version of self-care. Sometimes I walked with others, but mostly, I was alone. I held a continual conversation with God in my head, and found joy with which to face the day. I stopped and enjoyed the landscape. I listened to the water in the creek. I watched the birds flash from tree to tree.
Behold, you delight in truth in the inward being,
and you teach me wisdom in the secret heart.
Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. —Psalm 51:76
She opens her hand to the poor
and reaches out her hands to the needy.
She is not afraid of snow for her household,
for all her household are clothed in scarlet. —Proverbs 31:20-21
Come now, let us reason together, says the Lord:
though your sins are like scarlet,
they shall be as white as snow;
though they are red like crimson,
they shall become like wool. —Isaiah 1:18
For to the snow he says, ‘Fall on the earth,’
likewise to the downpour, his mighty downpour. —Job 37:6
By the time we had wandered the perimeter of the property, my spirits had lifted, and I was ready to engage with my children in the manner in which I want them to remember their mother: patient, gentle, loving, and kind. It’s absolutely amazing how something so small can be such a balm for the soul.
I’d love to say that I always think to stop and reorient myself with the Lord when I feel the shadow of an ill mood hanging over me. Sadly, I don’t. More often than not I don’t recognize the freight train of my own frustration until I’m biting back short words. Even then, slipping away from my to-do list for a half hour or 45 minutes feels like too large a price to pay in the big scheme of what my day must entail. So I press on… when sparing those few minutes would have been choosing the better path for myself, and for the people I so desperately love.
I’m challenging myself to carve out the time for these moments of respite this month in the hopes of developing a new healthy, habit. Maybe you need to join me, as well. If so, I’d love to hear about it.