Humble Pie

Humble Pie

From when my internet wouldn’t work:

My kitchen is so well floured that I don’t think anything in there will ever stick to anything else again. Marathon pie making with the kids is exhausting but so good for us all. They are currently rolling out the last bits of remaining dough for cookies and I am currently running out of patience. “I did so good,” I silently mourn, “I let them play and bake and make a huge mess and now I feel it. I’m done. I might really lose it soon. The kitchen is a wreck. The house is a wreck. We still have some school to do.” I’m past done…

“What do you want?” I heard it said calmly like I might say it myself to a child that I could see was just about to boil over. “Well, a clean house would be great and I just really want to lie down for a while without the kids needing me.” That’s when realization number one hits; this is how short sighted I have become. This happens to me so often. I remind myself of a little kid that just wants to play with that one truck that my brother is holding. Right now! And if I think about what I really want, it has nothing to do with a clean house. My instant perspective (a very good friend to carry around) kicks in and I remember the homeless guy outside of the grocery store last night. (It is also very good for me to regularly be exposed to people in true need I have found.)

No more really needs to be said. I’m not as done as I thought. It’s just good ol’ humble pie in the making. It’s a familiar and predictable path from here. I wonder at His goodness, kindness, and gentleness with me. I thank Him for what I have and I ask Him for more patience. He’s so full of grace for my immaturity. He loves me.