When adults want you to be their friend who won’t say no, their scapegoat, their decision maker, their conflict manager or secret keeper.

When the teenagers are moody and know more than you, are 15 going on 35 and need money you don’t have to do things the other kids are doing and keep secrets from you.

And the toddlers are teething and melting down and clinging too your knees, scribbling Picasso’s on your walls  and begging you for food as if you didn’t just feed them 30 min ago, and refusing (while crying) to nap, all at the same time the teenagers are grumping and the adults are dumping.

The chaufer, the cleaning lady, the nurse, the pianist, the secretary, the psychiatrist, the teacher, the parent and the lover.

Those days when the world wants you to be SO many things. But you just want to be you at your best, quietly

Making time for me, to be me. Stopping. Breathing. Remembering who I really am.

 Remembering to be the child at Jesus feet who He defended. To be the intricate creation God made me to be with worthy talents and skill. To be my husbands helpmate and joy as he is mine. To be content that we provided our best for our children at the end of each day.

And when the husband and I crawl out of the worlds rubble and into to each others arms, the peaceful rest we can find at the end of each day is knowing that whatever, or whoever was against us that day doesn’t matter.

Because God is for us. And that’s all that matters.