New every morning

Our new girls, ages 10 and 12, have been home exactly one year and we still have plenty of days where things go much less than smoothly. Days when rules grate and pain bubbles over and all they can think that the old life was oh, so much better.

Today was one of those days. A day that left me wishing for a beach chair in Hawaii or a weather station in the Antarctic or a yurt in Tibet. Anyplace rather than plowing through the unendingly hard work of helping stubborn grieving kids settle into a new world.

I am a limp noodle this evening. Am tempted to start a private blog where I can REALLY let it all hang out, but know darned well I don’t need one more project, even a restorative one like (more) writing. I’m also afraid that if I get on a complaining kick I might turn into an insufferable whiner. Besides, we signed up for this gig.

I know that I need to just take one day at a time, and I’m thankful to have made it to bedtime tonight. But I am painfully aware that somehow tomorrow morning I’ll need to come up with the strength to swing my feet out of bed, to stumble toward the coffee and smile a greeting at the ones who dragged me through their pain today. And also smile and hug and mother the ones who sat on the sidelines today. The ones who stepped aside and pulled together and met each other’s needs while I was in the pits with the one in most pain.

It sounds almost impossible at this moment. But I need to remember where my ‘solar’ cells get their charge. All I need is enough strength to look up. To lift my eyes to the Maker of the mountains I can’t climb.

And He gives grace new every morning.

Just what I need.

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