the afternoon recess


“Has God forgotten to be gracious, or has He in anger withdrawn His compassion?”
~Psalm 77:9~

“What is the cause of this turmoil?”, he asked.

My beloved found me in my heavy laden and less than desirable state, half-ranting-half-crying on the bed.  It’s a good question, one I was wondering myself, and have often wondered.  I was just trying to change a diaper.  Actually, I was just trying to get some time alone to write and blog about what a great day we’d all been having.  But it wasn’t meant to be, not then.

It’s just hard sometimes.

I’ll spare the forty-five minutes of mothering details.  There are simply times when you’ve got your own plans for doing things but the needs of people around you take precedence.   You have no choice.  You are bound.  The Need decides for you.  You don’t have the option of saying no or see ya or waiting until later. The Need demands the all of your now.

Why is this so painful?


I think it’s kind of like stubbing your little toe.

These are the times that in the grand scheme of life and its problems are not that big of a deal, but in the moment, still feel so difficult and painful to get through.

Your little toe is a small part of your body, not an essential to staying alive part, but when you hit it up against something the wrong way, the hard way, well, you know.

So these plans you have, these mini hopes and dreams that get squashed by this, that, or that other, this is gonna hurt because little or not they are still a part of you.

It’s the pain of dying to self.


Then your husband lays down his own plans and takes the kids to the post-office.

And when they get back from that, without a sound, he takes them out to play.  I’m watching.  I’m listening.  He’s teaching me things.

But not before one of the boys gets hit in the face with another boy’s stick.


It’s not always like this.

That’s what you’ve got to remember in those times.  The quiet voice will say to you:

“Rebekah, remember the peaceful and relaxing walk from early this beautiful morning?”


And remember how the air smelled like your earliest memories of wildflower summertime at Grandma’s house?

And remember how happy the kids were when Uncle Chris and Sarah surprised us with another visit and impromptu pretzel making lesson?



Jesus, yes.

Yes, I remember.

Thank you, Jesus.


I’m gonna go play outside now.


And I said, this is my grief
but I will remember the years of the right hand of the most High.

I shall remember the deeds of the LORD
Surely I will remember Your wonders of old.
~Psalm 77:11~

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