Another day.

Every day as the dinner dishes get cleared from the table and the kids begin to wind down (who are we kidding? They wind up, and you know it) I mentally prepare myself for the next 60 minutes. These last 60 minutes of the day have become the time where I am given the opportunity to work out my salvation. Things inevitably become louder and I feel so very tired. Part of me wants to forget it and say terrible sarcastic things and boss my babies to sleep. The other part of me is trying to talk me out of listening to that other voice. Last night the mean voice won and I gave into the weariness. I ended the day with "Please just be quiet and go to bed." ringing in the ears of my most precious people. And I went to bed with a pain in my heart and felt ashamed as I knelt to pray. I hadn't accomplished what I had set out to do that day.

Tonight I felt so dog tired. Those 60 minutes felt especially chaotic and I swear it felt like the lightbulbs were extra bright. So many times I opened my mouth to say something impatient and dissapproving. I stopped myself and shut my mouth. I took deep breaths and tried to remember that regardless of how I behave, they will eventually go to sleep and then I'll be left with the quiet house and the realization that I could have done better. So tonight we read our stories. I laid my babies down. We said our prayers. We gave our kisses. Tonight they know I love them. Tonight I'm not ashamed to talk things over with Him.

What a beautiful life this is. It's so relentlessly difficult and so cry-for-joy wonderful.

I have a suspicion that if I can overcome myself and master these 60 minutes, I will have taken a step toward my better self that can be achieved in no other way.

One of my new favorite quotes: (Thanks, Sarah)

"When I come to my evening prayers and try to reckon up the sins of the day, nine times out of ten the most obvious one is some sin against charity; I have sulked or snapped or sneered or snubbed or stormed. And the excuse that immediately springs to my mind is that the provocation was so sudden and unexpected; I was caught off my guard.... yet surely what a man does when he is taken off his guard is the best evidence for what sort of man he is. Surely what pops out before the man has time to put on a disguise is the truth. If there are rats in the cellar you are most likely to see them if you go in very suddenly. But the suddenness does not create the rats; it only prevents them from hiding. In the same way the suddenness of the provocation does not make me an ill-tempered man; it only shows me what an ill-tempered man I am. The rats are always there in the cellar but if you go in shouting and noisily they will have taken cover before you switch on the light. Apparently the rats of resentment and vindictiveness are always there in the cellar of my soul."

- C.S. Lewis

It makes me thankful for 4 little souls who have made it their business (for now) to flip on the lights and expose the rats. If they didn't do it, who would?