Difficult days with difficult children

All Moms have them. At least, I'm pretty sure they do, although I can only really vouch for my own. Days when it seems like nothing goes right. Days when it's all you can do not to wish you could lock someone in a soundproof box until they turn 40, or something along those lines. Days when you want to flop down in the middle of the floor and have a tantrum of your own. Days when it seems like you might as well just stop talking, because no one is listening to you anyway.

Thing is, when I feel that way, I'm especially thankful for people like my grandfather Glenn, who left us in 2003. He was always a man of strength and character. A man who seemed to have infinite wisdom and patience, at least to the eyes of a child.  He was and is a man I have loved and respected for as long as I can remember, and a man who was determined to follow God. That is why the difficult days make me thankful for him, when I have an opportunity to stop and think about it.

It's not because I feel like I have any particular strength in either wisdom or patience. They are things I work to try and improve, and sometimes that has to be on a daily basis.  I don't always feel strong, either, although I work hard to convey strength to those around me when they are needing it. (Isn't it funny how it works that way?)

The main reason I am thankful for folks like Grandpa is because of the faith that they instilled in me from a young age.

It is second nature to me to sing, and I do it all the time. Very often, I'm singing hymns, which brightens my day and encourages me. It rubs off on my children, who make up their own songs, just as I have made up songs for them. (Ask them to sing you the Bellybutton song sometime!) But it also makes me smile when I start singing or humming some hymn, and they recognize it. Occasionally, they'll even sing along, or ask me questions about it.

The other thing that is almost second nature to me at this stage of my life is prayer. Which is probably because I've found that on the days when I want to quit talking because none of my children are listening anyway, that sometimes it helps to change who I am talking to. I know that HE will listen, and even if I don't get a immediate or direct response, sometimes it helps me to calm down and refocus my energies. It helps to give me the strength and the courage I need to face the days that seem like one endless battle after another.

It reminds me of lessons learned from my Grandpa, who always told his children (who in turn told their children) to "remember what you are." I am a mother, a nurse, a referee, a chauffeur, a teacher, a budget analyst and more. But on those days when I struggle, when it's all I can do not to feel like I'm about to burst into tears of my own, I remember that I am also a child ... the child of a Father who loves me, and will give me all the help and support I could ever need. It allows me to pick myself up and to try again, even when I don't know how I'm going to accomplish it. I learned that lesson well from people like Grandpa ... and I am forever thankful.