I keep hoping that this will pass. That one morning I will wake up and feel refreshed, ready for a new day. That I will hop in the shower before any one is stirring, feed the baby before he makes a peep, make a gourmet breakfast and serve it to Chris before he even feels the pangs of morning hunger.
But the reality is almost every morning is complete chaos. I roll off the edge of my bed, take a quick look in the mirror and try to tame my hair after realizing that a shower is not an option, find clothes for Scarlett and spend 5 minutes trying to convince her to put them on, change Dominics dirty diaper and dress him while squeezing Sophie to keep him from bursting into "Im hungry and still tired tears", then proceed to dress myself in something presentable, throw on some blush, toast some bread and toss it in Scarlett's direction and walk out of the door 15 minutes late.
Only lately have I realized that maybe the rushing is actually causing the deep seeded hate of my current morning ritual. This would probably be an obvious observation to most, but unfortunately I am a little dense in the early morning light and actively choose to ignore and deny my grumpy disposition as the day progresses.
This lent season I have finally let myself see these internal workings for what they are, the roots of sin that hold so tight to my inner dialogue. I spent my quiet mornings in the car, reviewing the frustration that I feel in the first 30 minutes of my day, taking a deep breath and praying for the same thing over and over. Asking for forgiveness for the way I spoke to my husband or the harsh words that I said under my breath as I spent 20 minutes trying to get Scarlett to pick a pair of shoes. My sin is anger. It is like a light switch that I can not control, and in the morning the switch is always on.
This lent I finally see it, and more importantly I am finally dealing with it. I am taking deep breaths as Dominic starts to cry at 3 oclock in the morning. I am taking control of the sin that I let grow like weeds, sin that has slowly stomped out any trace of patience I had left in my soul. I am giving up the control that I hold so dear, the control of setting my own alarm, and I am replacing it with morning prayer. It is still hard to fight the urge to grunt and grown when things don't go my way, but every morning I try. I try to see the beauty of the sun shining through the window and look at the smile on my sons face and I am thankful...thankful for the much needed wake up call.
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