Today, I watch the snow fall in heavy descent. And while the earth is blanketed in white, my thoughts are pressing into the dark corners of my mind. My heart curls its fists as I realize the reason for the additional peace of a snow day—the fact that this day is void of the niggle of stress that comes with this mom sending her kids into American classrooms. Every school day, my lungs function a little less than 💯 until my babies gather at home again.
This is true. Some might think I am dramatic. I can’t help that it’s a true “confession” of me. And I don’t think I am alone.
This quiet morning, with my children sleeping soundly in their beds, I chose to open my Bible instead of entertain an internal debate spurred on by the cultural norm of idolizing opinion. Mine being first.🙄
And the only reprieve I find from my turmoil is in one beloved cry that comforts and calms and preserves my energy and words for a timely use in some future…conversation…ballot..heart to heart.
And that cry, one word:
This word has been a constant in my vocabulary lately.
A constant prayer on Sunday—
Lord, have mercy.☦️
And in that Mercy, I find the only peace and eternal hope in the Love of God.
Because, Mercy is “the compassionate, steadfast love of God on sinners”. If the only supplication from my heart is “Lord, have mercy” then I call upon Love and Love covers a multitude of sins. Love covers me, my flaws, and my worries.
And I must admit, I forget the power of laying my heart prostrate in a cry of Mercy when my lungs are functioning a little less than 💯.
But now, with full breathing in the peace of my nest being full, my soul cries Mercy for those mamas out there facing the next 8 hours of shallow breathing.
Lord, have mercy. 🙏 (while it’s easy to initiate that cultural norm and debate in the comments, I ask that you refrain, and pray with me—for mercy and abundant Life for all).❤️