I am always unsure of how much detail I want to share on my blog.
Seasoned readers will remember that I used to refer to my children and my husband by nicknames rather than their first names. Though I have decided that using first names is okay, I still tend to be cautious with how much I share on my blog about our personal lives.
I hadn’t been sharing that my husband’s mother had been fighting cancer for almost two years. It hadn’t seemed a necessary detail, so I withheld it. I had also worried about over-sharing someone else’s information; afterall, it wasn’t my disease.
I wish I could share that my mother-in-law is in remission, but I cannot. Instead I will share with you that she met our Lord Jesus this week. It was a long, hard struggle for her, my father-in-law, and every close family member, especially in the last few weeks of her life.
It has been overwhelming at times; we have stayed at my sister-in-law’s house several times in the past few weeks, close friends have been watching our girls, and we have been burning the candle on both ends. We talked, cried, laughed, and cared for my mother-in-law as one family.
We came home to discover there were some house repairs that could not be put off any longer. This was just the icing on the cake for us.
I kept telling my husband all week: “I am weary.”
And I was. I had the energy each night to really only pray for the spirit and strength to get up the next day and do it all over again.
Today was probably the first day in almost a month that I stayed home with my girls by myself. It was a normal day. It was hard to settle both kids back into their normal routine, not to mention the fact that my body would just rather sleep.
This evening, when the sweet sweet hour of bedtime was nearly approaching, my firstborn gave me a good scare:
She has recently learned how to open our front door, and has, on occasion, walked out onto the porch. While tending to her sister, I didn’t see nor hear Madeline, and so I began to call out to her. I walked throughout the house, but couldn’t see her. I opened the front door and called for her. No answer.
She is two.
After calling out for her a few more times I heard her little voice behind me in the hallway.
“I here, Mommy.”
Her pants and underpants were around her ankles.
“Madeline pee pee potty.”
I went into the bathroom to check, and sure enough, my little girl went into the bathroom on her own. She pulled down her pants and undies, went to the potty, and managed to wipe herself.
Then she proceeded to deposit some bath toys into her potty.
But that is besides the point.
This little girl of mine is growing so quickly. Right before my eyes.
God showed me today that although it has been a hard month, a hard couple of months, and I am weary, I must continue. Life goes on. I have two girls that need to be raised, and I am the best woman for the job. (Or at least that’s what I am led to believe.)