Today I have been plagued by the infernal question “when?”.

question markphoto credit

When will I be better, better?

When will I be able to eat dairy (and chocolate) again?

When will our daughter stop coloring on the darn walls?

When will we remember to deposit checks before we really need the money?

When will our son stop breaking things?

When will I get dressed before noon?

When will I get caught up on the laundry?

When will the girl start pooping on the potty?

When will I finish unpacking from our move (that was 8 months ago)?

When will my body get the message that I’m getting nutrients now and I don’t need to keep *ahem* “storing up for winter”?

When will I make the bed before 6 pm?

When will I know what I’m making for dinner before 5?

When will I return the library books on time?

When will my email inbox not be a pit of unread emails?

When will I only have to fold each load of laundry once before it gets put away?

When will I be able to see the surface of my desk?

For that matter…When will I be able to see the floor?


Many experienced mothers will tell me that (most of) these things are temporary, that they come with this season of small children, and that I might even *miss* them one day.  I’m not sure if I believe them, though.  😉

You know what I need to believe, though?

My hope isn’t in any of these things changing.

My hope is in Jesus.

He died for me when I was still a sinner.  When I was in my pajamas, with a gigantic pile of dishes, folding that shirt for the fourth time, cleaning up the shards of a broken lamp, and soaking toddler underwear to get the poop out…Jesus died to pay for my bad attitude.

I absolutely need to keep working on solutions for our daily struggles and problems, and on how I respond to them.  But, I absolutely need to do that remembering that my standing before God is not affected in the least by the state of our house or our lives.

I hope, oh-so sincerely, that many of these things will change.

But you know what?

Even if I am forced to live like this until my dying breath…

God is still faithful.  

The boundary lines have still fallen in pleasant places.  

And, one day, I will still have a beautiful inheritance.

okay…off to reread Psalm 16.