I've been having a bit of a pity party for myself these last few weeks. Summer's been too busy. I can't enjoy my kids. Then my kids are sick, so I can't enjoy time with my friends. I'm unmotivated, discontent. Everything I do feels pointless...like the laundry, and cleaning, and cooking. All things I must do but never seem to be "done". So, all in all, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself with my sorry little life.
Last night, I was late getting to bed because Sarah had a couple friends sleepover. About 11:30 I had to be "mean mom" and make them settle down and go to sleep. About 11:45 one got homesick, so I had to get out of bed - again - and go comfort her. I think they finally fell asleep about midnight. About 2:28 a.m. Becca came in our room, limping. Her ankle hurt. I thought, good grief, I am never gonna get any sleep. I went to get her some ibuprofen and she cried and cried and could hardly walk because it was so stiff. This doesn't happen often, since her JRA is in remission, but once in a while. So, I laid (or is it lied?) on her bed with her and stroked her hair and rubbed her ankle until she settled down and stopped crying. I got up to tell her that I was going to the bathroom and to bed and told her I would get her a stuffed animal to cuddle with. She said OK and was very calm and sweet-sounding. I gave her the teddy bear and a hug and she said "thanks". I said "You're welcome, Becca" and started to stand up. She grabbed my hand and pulled me back down for one more hug and whispered ever-so-sweetly "Mom, thanks for everything."
My heart melted and I realized that everything I do, I do because I love my family and God gave them to me to care for and that is the purpose and that was the end of my pity party.