Today was a difficult day.  I blew some fire alarms…too loud, and too strong, I am afraid.  Let me explain…

Chapter 11 of Loving the Little Years was about how as mothers sometimes when our houses get in disarray we are like a fire alarm…blasting out a strong warning.

We should be right?  Except that sometimes we are screeching like an annoying fire alarm…when only the toast in the toaster has burnt.

Ouch.  Yup, that is me sometimes.

The house gets a mess, children have grumbled for the umpteenth time,  the baby is needing his diaper changed,three children are literally talking to me at once….

…and I begin to sound an alarm. In a less than gentle manner, I am afraid.

I sound off as though the house is on fire…

It’s a major emergency, right?

…or is it?

Maybe I have just gotten filled to the brim with frustration and then the sweet little one comes up with a skinned knee- –

and he/she gets the brunt as I overflow.

And when I sound off…I miss the grace that is there for me.

The opportunity for sanctification (we call them OFS’s around here.)

And then, yes, there must be a humbling on mommy’s part as I ask forgiveness yet again.

So next time you are tempted to have a day like I had today…remember that maybe instead of blaring the fire alarm, you should just set the minute egg timer.

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Loving the Little Years

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