When There Are No Words

Pij’:-$ :’ -( ;-).

That is a post started by my darling 2 year old, Firecracker, earlier today.

He had grabbed my phone and found his way to my blog app, and thus we have what now is basically symbolic of how I feel at the end of this day.

There are no words.

I had my second emotional meltdown this pregnancy (pretty good run, considering my first was the night we found out I was pregnant, and now I am nearly 30 weeks), broke glass on the driveway at bedtime, messed up a dinner, and have had the kids behaving just *this* much too crazy for my liking tonight.

Thursdays are my day to share a photo and quote on Instagram for Blessed Is She. At 7:45pm, I figured out what to share.

“Be still and know that I am God.” -Psalm 46:10

And as I was nearly ready to finish up the image, something nutty went down in the house with the boys (because that’s how it happens, always), and then I was outside re-sorting the trash and recycling set at the curb. The wind is weird and wild tonight, so I didn’t want trash blowing all over. But then, a beer bottle fell and shattered. Words spewed forth. Not nice ones. I was barefoot. I cried out loud, literally, to God, that I was done and had no idea anymore what He wanted from me, because even with the words from the Psalm running through my head still, I physically and emotionally could not be still. Oh sure, I’d love to be still. To be sleeping. Without the threat of Firecracker waking 7.5 minutes after I’m snoring. But the crazy of the day…the things needing doing…stillness isn’t here.

What the heck.

And as finished picking up the shards, I stood up and faced a brilliant rainbow.

The poetic timing of it is nearly comical, right? I’m not even making it up or exaggerating. The bright rainbow stared me in the face to remind me that God really is there, with His promise of hope and healing and love. It’s like He was saying, “It’s going to be alright, even if it feels miserable right now.” Or something. And I stopped–in stillness–for a few brief moments, to enjoy the beauty and the hope that tomorrow won’t be so crazy. I’m counting on it. Ok, God? I could use a nice, pleasant tomorrow. No more crazy. Thanks, love me.

Since then, hours have passed. The kids are finally quiet. The 87th load of laundry this week is in the washer. I’m probably going to not fold the load I just pulled from the dryer, but instead enjoy my chocolate chip cookie-in-a-mug and be still before I crash in bed. After all, the stillness only lasts for a while. I need to savor it so that the graces fill me enough to get me through the next round.

Peace.