This morning our six year old made herself some toast, buttered it, cut it into tiny squares with kitchen scissors, dolloped it with maple syrup and then poured herself a large glass of milk... that she accidentally knocked into the corner of the table as she carried it over and everything proceeded to splatter onto the floor in a sticky, soggy mess.

Now, often, this would have been an internal battle for me not to get angry.  My first response is not always one of calm and reassurance when a mess is created...

“Patience is a grace as difficult as it is necessary, and as hard to come by as it is precious when it is gained.”

If there is any area of our lives that illuminates this quote by Charles Spurgeon, it’s parenting.    We want to be, no, we desperately long to be patient and self-controlled, but how often does our anger win?

For 16 days of the Christmas season this year, I loved, served, provided for, stayed up late with, and gave extensively to my four children who were all home for Christmas. I love them and love having them home.

But on day 17, as Clay, my husband, and I we were putting up the Christmas decorations, and I was washing dishes after making one of the last breakfasts we would have together, I looked toward the den and saw all four of my kids lounging on the couches, sipping coffee and giggling about life together.

It should have been a memory making moment, but some mysterious monster invaded my soul, and darkness filled my mind and soul and I began to spew!

"Do you feel like you can only react to your family rather than respond to them?"

I had been feeling helpless and out of control when it came to my short fuse with my family and had sought the wise counsel of a trusted friend. When she asked me that question I felt she had hit the nail right on the head. I finally had words to articulate what I felt going on inside.

I used to get frightened on those nights when my husband traveled.

For the first 13 years of our marriage he traveled off and on. Some months were worse than others. I remember one particular October he was gone 18 days that month alone. May was the worst month of all. I always dreaded May, the month he was on the road visiting all offices throughout the Pacific NW. There were barely enough days in the month for him to visit them all, so often times travels rolled over into June.

I was scared he would get in a car accident, a plane crash, or worse.

I would lie in bed at night and hear weird noises downstairs, outside on the property, and even down the hall.

I remember putting on a movie to try and distract myself, but all it really did was cause me to worry more.