Raising Magnolias

I’m stomping my feet, Lord! Hear my cry. Answer my cry.

I saw the little yellow pencils.

And the 50-cent glue.

I saw the pencil boxes and the erasers and the row after row of 5-rule and 4-rule and college-rule and I wanted to just cry.

Thank you, Jesus.

August is coming.

August.

Is coming.

And I survived. We survived.

And I know the Truth. I know that if not for the grace of God, I deserve nothing. I know that all I need is Jesus. I know this and yet not really.

I want Jesus AND.

Jesus is enough so long as my children are home.

Home with Mom.

And oh, I can hear my pastor’s voice in my ear even as a type, but dangit!

I did not deserve this summer.

Night after night after night for my babies to be picked up from our home as if I’m some nanny.

An entire summer of asking permission.

An entire summer of trying to explain to a 5 year-old why she can’t sleep at home.

And entire summer of trying to explain to a 9 year-old why we can’t leave town. Why we can’t go on vacation.

Why we can’t.

“I can’t take it for one more day. Not for one more day.” That what she says.

Whispers.

As I carry her to the car.

And after they leave, that’s what I feel.

And here we are with school supplies on display and August just days away and yet tonight, Lord, I don’t think I can take it for one more day.

Forgive me, God.

Forgive me for needing Jesus-and.

Forgive me for wanting more.

Forgive me for failing to see that you are enough.

But oh my God, please let this be over and bring my children home.