The Missionary's Mother.

Knickerbocker, Knickerbocker, number nine



He likes to dance and he keeps in time


Now let's get the rhythm...
 
I have lost the rythmn of my days.  This makes me a cross & ratty woman.  The house is a mess.  This depresses me but the thought of cleaning it all up depresses me more. I prefer to do my housework late at night because there is something extremely satisfying in knowing that unless the fridge raiders go completely beresk my work will stay that way for at least 8 hours.  Nothing depresses me more than having everything neat & tidy & some ape come along & promptly turn it into a  pigsty again!  Unfortunately I have a light sleeper who screams at the first chink of china.
 
I have lost the particle of time I had carved out for bible study & prayer .  Dearest has changed his sleeping & waking patterns so now I must needs find a new iota of time ~ something not easily done in this house!
 
I am not one of those happy women who can run their own, & everybody else's, lives with aplomb.  I'm a potterer & a ditherer & sad to say halfway through cleaning up I am likely to start reading whatever I've just picked up & get completely sidetracked.  This sad lack of focus does not apply to reading or study.
 
If I had the backbone of a jellyfish I'd just get stuck into it & do it.  I don't.  I tentatively poke at it.  If it moves I run for the hills.  Three times this week I've psyched myself to tackle my house.  Three times I've planned my attack in my head.  Three times Liddy has popped up to skype!  Once was to chat.  Once ~ who knows?  Once for our cheesecake recipe.
 
Good grief!  And this woman calls herself a Christian! Cleanliness is next to godliness, right?  How on earth did such a Ditz end up with one child on the mission field & another preparing to go?  Well, I'll let you into a secret; I didn't have anything to do with it.
 
I mightn't be able to manage my life without a massive meltdown but that's ok; God's got my back.  He's got a head for details.  He doesn't forget anything.  He hasn't forgotten I promised Him my children back.  He hasn't forgotten that every night of their growing years we prayed that they would love & serve God.  This is not liscense to be lacksadaisical.  It just means God can plug my holes because He does know what I'm like.  All the trying in the world is not going to magically turn me into a competant housekeeper or a  purposeful parent.  It does mean He gets all the glory.
 
And however strange my parenting may sometimes have been it served it's purpose.  The picture is of Liddy aged about 12 months.  She is wearing the most gorgeous little dress her Ma made her & she looked like the most beautiful little doll ever, very sober & just walking.  We took her to a family wedding with all the Aunts & cousins who are completely baby mad & swooped on her ooohing & aaahing & wanting to pick her up & squeeze her with cuddles ~ an operation that mortified Liddy.  She spent the whole weekend screaming for her mother any time anyone else so much as looked at her!  Her mother complied.  Nothing much has changed.  Liddy pops up on skype, I'll answer.  The house can go hang!