Thursday, May 10, 2012

Bigger Picture Moments: Fires

I crack the shell and egg white and yolk drip into the pan, sizzle in the heat.

Sleep hasn't come easy the past three nights, and I am running on broken-rest fumes while my cranky toddler melts into a teething, runny nose mess on the floor near my feet.

Anger stirs into my mind, mingles with frustration, blending into one like the eggs I'm frying. I rush-hurry to serve breakfast, my own exhaustion and weariness warmed by the fires flaming this third morning of solo parenting {reinforcements have since arrived}.

My preschooler makes the unfortunate mistake of airing complaints about his breakfast at the same moment his little brother flings the eggs I served just moments ago onto the floor.

I yell loud and power-punched the little one's full name.

My preschooler shrinks into his chair while the youngest dissolves into more tears.

I power through breakfast at high speed -- cleaning up, getting ready,trying to finish writing.

The flames are still burning, though, and my two year old is having none of it.

He's walking around sobbing and tantruming as I continue to burn in my pit-fire of anger and irritation.

Hurried attempts are made at calming him before I finally grab him by the shoulders and shriek "what?! What is wrong with you?"

I douse the fire of my own temper tantrum with guilty tears.

I gather him up in my arms, heart sopping wet from the drenching and try to find my way through the smoldering ashes.

But I can't see beyond the smoke, so I sit in quiet prayerfulness.

And I rock. I rock him gently, his small body still shaking from crying.

I rock him until his eyelids fall heavy and close, his breathing slows into rhythmic peace.

I rock until chaos fades into calm until the heat cools his body and my own.


I pray repentance in the stillness of the room, whispering how I'm sorry to have let the fires spread in the fast movement of my day.

I soak deep into grace-filled words that only ran across the surface of my heart this morning because I was simply going too fast to drink them into my thirsty, drought-ridden, fire-susceptible heart.
“We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about the hardships we suffered in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead." —2 Corinthians 1:8–9
The smoke clears, and I move slowly to restore what was lost in the fire, asking forgiveness from two little boys who watched me burn.

There are gracious hugs, mercy-words given.

I replant seedlings into the soil with slowness, with patience, with gentleness and with love.

And remember that when there is nothing of me left to give, there's always more of Him for us all

in the midst of the burning fire and after the smoke clears as well.

Simple BPM

Share a picture, words, creation or list; just come to the table with the beauty in the simple moments of the week.. 

Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.

Harvest them!

Link up your gleaned moment this week at Sarah's! Please be sure to link to your post, not your blog. Your post must link back here or have our button in your post or the link will be deleted.

Visit at least the person linked before you and encourage her in this journey we call life.


  1. "heart sopping wet from the drenching" - my favorite of all the powerful phrases. The water/fire thread you have running through this is so perfect for it. And you capture that release that comes when God, His word and His grace washes over us ~ beautiful.

    1. Thanks for that feedback, Adrienne. It is super appreciated to know what resonated with you, friend.

  2. Oh, so sorry you had that kind of day. But I'm glad you had a moment where you could put those fires out. I hope the day turns better!

    1. It did turn around, Jade! Thanks for the well wishes.

  3. Oh Hy...what a day. So glad you were able to find strength in HIM to get you through. Now as long as no one drinks stangant water from a sandbox, you will be golden. :-)Here's to a quiet rest of the week, and safe travels for John. XXOXOXO

    1. Bwhahahahaha! NO SAND BOXES! lol. Thanks for the wishes for quiet rest of the week and safe travels for the hubby. Gosh, I already miss you!!

  4. "my thirsty, drought-ridden, fire-susceptible heart"
    I recognize this place. I can never give what I want to give or be what I want to be when I am in this place. Your words ring so true throughout this piece and I share in both your despair and your desire to move past it. Peace to you.

    1. Thank you for sharing that you've found yourself in this same struggle ... it's a lonely place when we don't internalize that we all can go there so easily. Your comments always give me a sense of peace and make me feel less alone. I'm so thankful for you, May.

  5. All mothers have had moments like those...more than one of them. Forgive yourself for your imperfections and move on quickly. Certainly your children have done that.

    1. Yes, I've certainly had my fair share, too.

  6. Oh Hy, sometimes it takes our own fires to know just how much we need His redeeming fire, huh? This kind of forgiveness and repentance is how He makes beauty out of our messes. I can't believe I missed it - thanks for sharing it again.


There's nothing better than good conversation ... but not while talking to myself. Will you play a part in this discussion?

AND will you pretty please have your email linked to your account or leave it for me so I can respond?

Thanks for taking the time to make these thoughts into conversation.