perspective

Yesterday was a bad day. The kids were all messed up. I couldn't figure out napping, when they were hungry or find things to entertain them (except TV) for any length of time. I felt slightly depressed, frustrated and a little mad. And I couldn't seem to break me or them out of our funky momentum, that increasingly got worse as the hours passed. Usually when we have a bad morning some, if not all of us, recover during nap time. It's kinda of our restoration time and very important to me and to them to reset moods so we can finish out the day well. But that didn't seem to cure any ills yesterday. Everyone seemed no different--and slightly worse--after nap time.

At about 5pm I turned on a movie for Matthew, put an unhappy Kyler in her crib and went and laid face down on my bed. I figured if I didn't somehow reset I would come apart at the seams. So I stole a few minutes to pray, and basically told God if He wanted me to love my kids well, He better intervene because I was blowing it up. I got up, not feeling much better, but resolved to finish this day without any further deterioration. I used the few extra minutes of Matthew's Veggie Tales to check facebook--intending to possibly vent my bad day to the world--and was floored.

The first status update I read was about a friend concerned for Haiti and her son who is still over there. Millions of people are suffering and dying and trapped. Children are orphaned. People needing medical attention have no access to it. The destruction will impoverish this already impoverished nation for years to come. This will be no quick recovery, and in a few weeks, most of the world will have forgotten this and moved on, while the people there seek to rebuild their lives with little assistance from a few who remain faithful.

I know my Jesus loves me. But His heart broke yesterday for the people who are suffering and dying. Where was mine? I claim to be a part of Him. But I couldn't break outside of my bubble long enough to weep for what makes Him weep. He was with a hurting and dying people. Once again, my shallow heart didn't plummet to the depths with Him. I remained aloof, caught up in my own cares, concerns and petty vanity.

Today I weep. Today I pray and cry out to God for Haiti, for Amos Ivey, and for a little boy in Uganda. Kyler's running a fever. Matthew is throwing crayons. Today is like yesterday. Except God grabbed hold of my heart and invited me to share with Him in the suffering of His people.