These days of beginning school again, I find myself looking in simple places for inspiration before I wake the crew each morning. I have to get up early, like really early, to beat the two incorrigible early risers and get some quietness for me. One of them chatters every waking minute, so as much as I detest the alarm’s intrusion at 6 AM, I try to haul myself out for the sake of the day ahead.

I have been reading the Psalms as they correspond to the days of the month, finding they resonate with life as it is right now. “Deliver me, O God… Preserve me… Renew a right spirit in me… Let me hear joy and gladness…”

This is the day for Psalm 23, and I have to confess that in my life I have had some irreverent thoughts such as, “Goodness, I guess he couldn’t think of anything else to share for a meditation at church so he fell back on good old Psalm 23.” I have also read some books that beat this beautiful Psalm to death, so this morning I asked God for something fresh.

Maybe this is old hat to you, but to me it is new and lovely from an ancient place.

Consider verse 3: “He leads me in the path of righteousness for His name’s sake.” I have started substituting the word “reputation” whenever I see “name” in the Psalms. This morning I see that the way of rightness preserves God’s reputation.

Paraphrased for me, this goes something like this: Today God will lead me in a direction that is right, so that His faithfulness and goodness are revealed in me.

Practically it means that today when my children chew their pencils, when the baby chews the toddler (not really, but she has taken up biting since her molars are pushing), when everybody is always wanting more FOOD to chew, I do not need to chew them out. Sorry, I know that is lame. True though.

It means that when (I quote my son here) “I am sick and tired of being gracious”, I extend grace anyway. I might hit the roof when I see the hole they hacked into the lattice so they can hide under the deck, but I can understand the logic behind the idea. And it is behind the shrubbery, after all.

It means that the child with a band aid fetish gets one even though she isn’t bleeding.

It means cheerful wiping of bottoms, and folding of laundry and teaching of prefixes and suffixes and making of quantities of food and dispensing kindness.

I go into the day knowing that I will live it imperfectly, but a path is not a finished product. A path is a direction. I go into this day knowing that within me He has put the power to protect His reputation.

Last week one morning I dumped  the contents of my purse onto my bed, sorted out the hair bands, diapers, pencil stubs, gum wrappers and cheerios container before I replaced my wallet, day planner and phone. I had a separate bag of toiletries and yet another large canvas tote of school books. Rather giddily, I loaded them into the car and took off, just me, for 24 hours. I was on a quest for some brain space and quietness to plan out the coming school year. Normally I am happy with a fairly fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants schedule. However, that approach gives me a nasty feeling of loose ends flying about me during the school term. I love learning with our children, but this year August came with it’s aisles full of back to school deals and I didn’t even want to think about math and history. So my thoughtful husband gave me a day off, completely, while he took care of the kiddies.

It was odd. I haven’t been all by myself for that space of time since I began having babies, ten years ago. It was oddly fun, too. I spent so much time at Hobby Lobby that I started feeling embarrassed. Then I found a tea room and took my canvas tote full of school resources inside where I sipped chocolate hazelnut tea out of a china teacup and nibbled a cranberry scone while I read “Books Children Love” and scribbled notes.

I thought long uninterrupted thoughts. I even spaced out and didn’t think for a while. At suppertime I was pleased to find that I can still make a salad last for an hour. Being of a frugal bent, I checked into a motel with econo in its name, despite Gabe’s protests. 😉  It did have a king sized bed and I slept until I woke naturally,  (Okay, it is also natural to be awakened by babies… but I slept until I couldn’t sleep anymore.) figuring it must be about seven o’clock. It was closer to nine which meant I had to scramble to get some continental breakfast. My economy room  had a large desk where I could spread out my stuff and set to long range planning. Never mind that the remote was held together by duck tape. I didn’t need it anyway. I needed quietness. At noon I checked out, went to the super, back-to-school sales with a lot more enthusiasm, and stocked up on glue sticks and pencils and cheap notebooks.

I had intended to stop at the tea room again, but something strange happened. I couldn’t wait to come home.

You know how you can be listening to a long-winded story while doing other stuff, and occasionally saying, “Uh huh. Yeah.” And you know the kid that cannot be concise, no matter what, so you tend to tune out a lot?  You say, “Please hurry,” and he thinks you said, “Tell me more about your alleged dream while you clear the table.” I nearly missed a choice bit because of my habit of tuning out. But I did hear it, and here it is for you.

We were driving home at dusk, windows open, looking for wildlife. There was a general roar of visiting going on in the back of the van when we topped a hill and were treated to three does and three fawns, staring at us curiously. The roar loudened with the escalated levels of excitement, and as we drove slowly on, I heard Gregory dredging up a tale. “I read in a book that vinegar-ana has so many deer that they call them their state bird.” While I was still going, HUH, Alex took a brief break from his own story to say, “VIRGINIA.” 

I am proud to say that I did not burst out laughing until a suitable amount of time had passed so no feelings were hurt. I urge you, listen to your children. It is better than a comic strip.

We had a lovely time at my parent’s house this past weekend. All three of my siblings brought their families to Pennsylvania for three days of community living and connecting. Due to all sorts of different circumstances, we are all a little cash strapped, so we decided to camp in my parent’s backyard instead of trying to find a cabin big enough to accommodate our crew of 10 adults and 13 children. It was a brilliant plan, all except the part where my mom and dad nearly worked themselves to death to get ready for the chaos happy offspring descending upon them. We tried to feed them well and take good care of them over the weekend. I think they had fun.

I have discovered that a sense of humor is a great way to deal with some of the everyday crises that mothers face in caring for their offspring. And since I like “you might be” lists, I have collected my own. 

…if you know that a band-aid and a kiss are better than a doctor most days.
…if you don’t flinch when your child uses his shirttail for lack of a tissue.
…if you can meditate in the same room as a toddler with a xylophone.
…if you can enjoy reading “The Biggest Bear” for the twentieth time.
…if you can see the eternal value of wiping things all day long. 
…if you have little teeth marks on your chap stick.
…if you plunge things deep down under other stuff in the trash can to keep them from being rescued.
…if you absentmindedly eat the food you just scraped off your baby’s mouth with the spoon, and hope nobody else at fellowship meal noticed.
…if you can keep a straight face and sympathize with a child’s distress at not being able to get his buttons into their cracks.
…if you consider it all in a day’s work when there is panic in the bathtub.
…if you feel vaguely hungry at 3:00 P.M. and realize that you fed everyone but yourself at lunchtime.

…if you are willing to give your life away every day for the sake of little people who have no idea that you ever had any other life… You might be a mother.