I am sitting on the couch with an encroaching migraine, breath garlicky from eating croutons while I binge-watch all the best Logan-and-Veronica moments from Veronica Mars. The boys and the girls are asleep. Rob has been gone for a few days. I am on day four of strep meds so I can swallow and almost turn my head both ways without pain. Almost.
The last month we have been blessed in so many ways. Blessed with a new, second daughter who is beautiful and peaceful and healthy. Blessed with food to eat and shelter and so many things that people all over the world (I’m especially thinking Iraq) would wish for.
And yet this month has been so difficult for me. With an early baby and a husband out of town for 14 days, recovering from major surgery and then having strep throat, I feel completely annihilated. I like to borrow Bilbo Baggins’ phrase: “I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.” Thin is actually an understatement. I feel squished. Flattened.
I hear it in the way I talk to my children. Not yelling (though I will admit there has been some of that this month), but that serious Mom Voice. The one that means Business. There is a place for that, but lately it seems like that place is everywhere, all the time. I sound frustrated or annoyed or just unhappy. I’ve lost that sense of joy about motherhood and about my children.
Every so often in roller derby, you get a pack out there and everything goes wrong. You don’t stay with your other blockers and your walls fall apart. You totally miss that other jammer and she flies right by you. People start going to the penalty box. And then someone yells this magic word: RESET!
When someone yells this on the track, it is (hopefully) a Pavlovian thing. Wherever you are and whatever you are doing on the track, you get back with your other blockers. You find each other and you start it all again. Forget the plan you came out with. Forget what wasn’t working. Forget the mistakes. Reset means to get back to the beginning, back to basics, back with your girls to give it a fresh start, even if there are only 20 seconds left in that jam. A reset doesn’t always fix everything, but that one little word can have an amazing impact.
I’m shouting it now in my own life. Off the derby track and in my living room. Things are going awry and I need to get back to basics, to forget this current course I’m on and the things that I’ve done wrong in the last few weeks, to forget the guilt of messing up and losing my joy. I need a reset.
I always love when I see life lessons in roller derby, most especially when I also see a tie to something in my faith. When I think of resetting on the track and in real life, I am reminded of these verses in Lamentations:
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him.”
God’s love is keeping me from being consumed, even in these days I feel thin and stretched. His compassions do not fail, but are new every morning. After a particularly difficult bed time the other night, the boys and I talked about this. “Let’s pray for a fresh start,” I said. “God says his mercy is new every morning. That means we can start over tomorrow.”
“What about right now?” one of my precious boys asked.
“You know what? I think we can start over right now.”
Reset. God’s compassions are new every morning, but not just every morning. God’s mercy is new every moment. (Click to Tweet) Every moment we hear (or shout) “RESET!” His grace is that available. That attainable, not because I deserve it, but because Jesus died for it. He gives us a new heart when we come to know him and he can renew it, as David famously prayed in Psalm 51:10. Again and again and again. That is the best reset ever.
Anyone else feeling stretched thin, in need of a reset? How wonderful to know that God makes them so available to us, new every morning and new every moment.