The Sanity Prayer
God grant me the sanity
to answer one more question today;
courage to change the water in the fishbowl;
and wisdom to know when to lock the door of the bathroom and call it a day.

—Taken respectfully from "The Serenity Prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr

Dear Lord,

Please guide me as I make my way through the rest of this evening.  The dinner is half-finished on the stove, and "Jon and Kate + Eight" is blaring in the background (but when isn't it, really?) and I know that I should be thinking, "If Kate can do it with EIGHT children, well, then my day should be CAKE!"  But honestly?  That show bugs me.  Just the show, Lord.  I'm sure the people are lovely.

Lord, lighten my hands as I reach for one more pair of dirty socks (I know I just put these in the drawer yesterday) and toss them into the hamper that I SWORE I would not carry to the laundry room now that there are four other people in this house capable of carrying their own hampers downstairs.  But Lord, let me try to carry their loads with love.  I do love them, Lord, but I can't find it in my heart today to love the dirty jeans.

Open my heart to the possibility that not everyone in my home likes onions, and maybe it's my fault that I sautéed them with the meat for the enchiladas this evening.  Forgive me for playing hide-and-seek with this tiny, white vegetable, God.  It was really just for flavoring.  I seek your presence at the table as we eat; open THEIR hearts and mouths to the idea of trying something NEW.  Now there's an idea . . . sorry for that sarcasm, Lord.  But you do know me, inside and out.

Sam is asking me a lot of questions tonight, Lord.  Please, please, please grant me patience.  I want to stop everything and have every answer, but I just don't have it in me.  Sometimes I do.  Most times I do.  Tonight I don't.  Later we will read a book and relax . . . Lord, just let me get there.

Remind me, Lord, in the moments when I find myself locked in the upstairs hall bathroom because there is nowhere else in this whole house to just find FIVE SOLID MINUTES OF PRIVACY, that I have created this tiny little haven for my children.  When I was "relaxing" on the rug in front of the toilet, I studied the "map of the world" shower curtain, and suddenly realized how Sam knew that Paraguay was near Chile.  Or, rather, how either of those two countries even existed in his crazy little mind.  It was here, too, that I did consider having a shot of NyQuil for dinner.  Thank you, Lord, for guiding me away from that decision.  NyQuil is good for the sick.  Not just for the overtired and cranky.    And, after five minutes of "peace," the voices of the children began calling.  "Mom?  Where's Mom?  Has anyone seen Mom?"  I brushed the rug fibers off of my yoga pants and came out of hiding.  Those voices do have power, for sure.

However, Kate's voice from the TV is really starting to rub me wrong.  Doesn't she ever find herself on the bathroom floor?  Probably not.

I pray for motivation.  Can we just get this out there (as I cook enchiladas?)  I am weary, Lord, of the focus and attention paid to weight loss and outer beauty.  Do I want it?  Oh, yeah.  You betcha.  But can I make it the central part of my life?  Never.  I pray for my daughter who already sees herself through the eyes of others. . . who may already view herself in the wrong light.  Let me be a good example of health and beauty to her, Lord.  Let me be strong enough for us both against the comparisons of others.  For one day, let me not stress about every single bite I eat. 

Lord, as my husband travels home from a one-day trip in Arkansas, bless the pilot and all those he travels with.  I'm sure it was a busy day.  I hope he likes onions in his enchiladas.

Thank you, Lord, for helping me to find the words this past week as we struggled through some difficult conversations with our children.

Help me to draw a deep breath at some point today.  One child home sick, another with doctor's appointment,  one with an evening baseball clinic, a basement storeroom to clean, a novel to write. . . 

I hope you have nothing else to do tonight, Lord, because that's a long list.  I hope you find it helpful that it's in writing.

And with that, I shall take a deep breath, a breath I already feel coming easier.  Dinner is nearly finished now, and Sam is playing quietly.  The TV is off.    Lord, thank you for listening; obviously, you were.    Love,  Christy