Just yesterday morning, as I was getting ready for the day ahead in our bathroom, I noticed the bath in our bathroom. I see the stickeez on the side of the bath, used to pull out the plug (purely because we have not had time to fix the mechanism that has broken). Then my eyes wander further and I see a lost sponge number (nogal number 7), that the kids always play with when they bath, pushed into the shelf above the bath.
But it is as if the stickeez and the sponge number have teamed up against me, mocking me. They are mocking me by accentuating the empty bath, the bath that, every now and then, has a few bugs in and a layer of dust due to little or no use. Then it is as if they stab my heart with a knife, twisting it. The pain shoots through my whole body when I realise – the children are now almost grown up.
Gone are the days sitting next to the bath, playing, teaching numbers, alphabet letters and colors. Gone are the moments that, at times felt too long and torturous (God knows my heart and EVERY mother feels like this at times, that I am confident of!). These moments felt that way, especially when I got very little sleep due to breastfeeding through the night, or long hours of work (or both). It was not the children’s fault that I felt like that, yet some days, the moments that I had to treasure, (especially when I was very tired and slept badly) where too much for me to handle.
Earlier this week I had a conversation with a friend. She tells me that someone told her that they only have 7 Christmases (this spelling looks wrong but I am leaving it here because I have no idea how else to spell it) left with her eldest living with them in the house, then that time is over. I look at her in total disbelief, as if she is lying to me. I then start to think, doing some calculations myself. I have less than that left with my eldest child!! When I have months, weeks and weekends like we have had since January right up to now in March, when I slave away behind my computer (what feels like days without end) just to get things submitted on time and to get through the work load, then deep inside of me, there is this rebellion that builds up against my work. (My goodness WHAT a LONG sentence, but I do not think I can break it up more?).
I feel more than angry, because I feel that my work steals from me and my children. To top it all off, sometimes the working, days without end, week in and week out, working on weekends, is not even rewarded with a payment. Many clients (not only one) just shine like a bright little star not paying our accounts, even though they receive the statement, which is sent very patiently and politely month after month. Unfortunately Pastel does not have that little man that is on his knees, crying with the words Please pay, overdue that you can insert on the statement. Not like the old days, where an admin tannie (aunty if you are wondering) prints out the statements, stamping them with Mr. Please Pay Overdue, folding it neatly and then posting it. No, now it is just very convenient and easy to leave e-mails as unread.
But there I am losing my plot again about what I actually want to say. You see, this rebellion actually starts to create bitterness and bitterness makes you ill and tired. It wastes so much precious energy. So back to the empty bath. I think about it the whole day while driving to Johannesburg to see a client, and back again. I wonder by myself just WHY God made me aware of the bath?
Then I start to think, when last DID the kids bath in our bath? Somewhere between last year and this year, they started showering in their own bathroom. In the beginning it was nice to have my bathroom back to myself (and my husband of course). No toys lying all over the show. But suddenly I realise that it is over for ever, the toys lying all over the show. That which was the biggest irritation to me at times (not always) is now gone and that implies that the kids are growing up and are moving into a new phase.
I also think back to a conversation I had with another friend (also earlier this week, and YES I talk alot!). She tells me that her eldest is at University. Again I stare at her in total disbelief (and again as if she too, is lying to me). She is only 42, how can she have a child at University? Then I realise she is right. He is 18 already! She tells me that I must enjoy the time I still have to sleep and lie next to the kids at night. I must tolerate it, bear it. When you see again, it is over.
With tears in my eyes I realise that at least I only have an empty bath. She has 3 things that are empty – a bath, a bed and a room. I feel the Holy Spirit working on my heart, gently removing the knife that was turned and twisted. The reality of the empty bath does not hurt less. But He reminds me that I still have 2 of the 3 items in my house. “Treasure it” I feel the whispering in my spirit. “Have more patience and just trust me with the work and everything that bothers you so much” He continues to tell me.
“Leave everything at the feet of Jesus” words that I keep on repeating to myself and which I also hear other people say to me and I, myself, even utter to people that are feeling discouraged. “It is HARD God!” I almost want to shout back to Him. “Everyone expects something from me, every moment of every day. I am just ONE person. By the time that the kids arrive home in the afternoons, I am finished.” (In Afrikaans we say ‘op soos ou brood’ but a direct translation of this just does not sound right). “Where do you scratch out some patience? I don’t even have crumbs to spare? Plus my kids deserve more than just crumbs.” I continue reasoning with God. As if He knows NOTHING that is going on in my life.
I remain silent for a moment and see the bath again. The bath that is empty. Then I see the rooms that are full and the beds that we share every evening with our kids. I know it is ok to do it in this manner. Even if it is frowned upon by other people, I know it is ok for us. This is the little bit that we can give back to our kids for all the nights, weekends, holidays, days, weeks, months that we had to work, missing out on time with them, not being able to assist with studying and tasks that have to be done, the list is LOOONG. For all the ungrateful work that we have ever done for people. For all the unpaid statements, without Mr. Please Pay Overdue on.
I feel a calmness coming over me and I know, God knows my heart. I am doing the best that I can with that which I have available to me. My best will probably never be good enough in my own eyes, because I have this expectation, an expectation about how life should be. Not how life really is. I truly hope that my best is good enough for my kids.
I then also leave my unpaid accounts, without Mr. Please Pay Overdue on at the feet of Jesus, with my work and the pressure that comes with it, together with, what feels like 10 million other things. I hear an echo through my mind – I need only to be still, for the Lord will fight the fight for me. God is fighting, even if it does not feel like that. Exodus 14:14 (KJV) The LORD shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace. I place the last little piece of something at Jesus’ feet – the empty bath. Then I turn around in search of crumbs, scraping them together so that my kids can experience more than just crumbs from this afternoon and every other afternoon and evening from now on.
Die leë bad
