His Mercy

Well, today was one of those days. My two year old, Mordecai, opened the box of tampons that were in my cart at Target. He individually unwrapped eight of them and threw them onto the floor. At home, he climbed on the bunk bed and proceeded to dump an entire bag of guinea pig hay onto the ground, and the bed, and the shelf. He was put into time out sixteen times, spending a total of thirty-two minutes in the corner. He peed on my bed, and smeared poop onto the couch.
My one year old, Noah, had diarrhea and filled twelve diapers. He threw seven tantrums, and bit me during five of them. He also bit Mordecai twice, trying to get his oatmeal. He pulled all of the movies out of the armoire, and half the books off my book shelf. He ate my deodorant and a small portion of lavender lotion. By the time 2:30 came around and my husband, David, got off work, I was physically and emotionally exhausted. Yes, he was home now, but we still had four and a half hours until we could put the kids to bed.
David did give me a fifteen minute break from the kids, but as I laid on my bed with the door closed, the boys sat out in the hall and cried my name. When I finally let them in, eight minutes before my break was actually over, Mordecai jumped on me and head-butted my stomach. Noah remained inconsolable. He was not ready to forgive me for shutting him out.
Six poopy diapers, four time outs, two spankings, and one bath later, it was finally time to put them to bed. We sang them a few songs, read “Good Night Moon”, and led them in a bedtime prayer. I walked out of their bedroom, laid down on the couch, and took a deep breath in. Freedom had finally come!
After cleaning up toys and picking up all the dinner that didn’t make it into Noah’s mouth, we snuggled on the couch for the rest of the night. We talked about God and read the Word together. At ten, it was time to go to sleep. But as we laid in bed talking about how much we love our boys, something funny occurred to me. Somewhere between putting the kids to bed and now, everything bad they had done simply floated out of my mind. I no longer remembered the exhaustion they had caused me to feel. The frustration, the anger, the overwhelming desire to escape the confines of parenthood; they were all gone. And what was left, was love. I found myself missing them, and wanting to be around them. I went into their room, and watched in awe of their perfect little bodies sleeping in bed. I wanted to hold them and kiss them. I could hardly wait until morning to be with them again.
This was not an isolated occurrence. I actually do the same thing every night. No matter what they’ve done during the day, no matter how many times they’ve disobeyed; when night comes, I can only remember how much I love them. I sit in bed and talk with David about all the cute things they said and did that day. I close my eyes and think of how excited I am so see them in the morning.
Only this night, my thoughts returned to the Lord. However forgiving my love for my boys, His love for me far outweighs it. I think I finally understand what He meant when He said: “His mercies are new every morning”. Indeed God, your mercies are new every morning. How thankful I am for that!