Breached Dam

Some days this image of a broken dam runs through my head.  Chris and I will work hard to build a good sturdy wall of routine, discipline, and comfort for our kids. But when that wall is holding strong, I tend to neglect the maintenance, forgetting what power lies dormant if that wall bursts.  Until it does.  And when it bursts with 6 kids under 9…

Well, this morning I traded the child-drawn flower on the back of my slipcover for a rip down the front.  I received a valentine heart that read, “I hate math.”   I spent a significant chunk of time de-salting my computer keyboard.  I’ve thrown away yet another pair of poopy underwear owned by a certain 3-year-old who does not seem to be appropriately grossed out by anything.  We’ve been over the wild horse of emotions conversation for the ????  time.  And it looks like a tornado has come down our chimney to swirl juice and crayons, banana peels and little cut up pieces of paper all into one colorful abstract piece of art.

The real problem isn’t an isolated bad moment or two or five, it is the continual force of sin naturally following the path of least resistance.  It never relents for repairs or rest.  As John Owen said, “Be killing sin, or it will be killing you.”  In my little day dream  then, I imagine that I can just jump into the chaos and put it all to rights, after all I kind of like fighting sometimes.  But it only takes one step into the rushing water to realize that I will be drowned.  These forces are far too strong for me.

They are not too strong for the one who can make walls with water, cause storms to cease, and turn children of wrath into children of mercy.  So this afternoon calls for grace.  For grace that hems us in, repairs our breached walls, and ends in obedient worship to the immeasurably kind Christ who killed sin for me and my little rushing waterfalls of chaos kids.

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