seen

 Tonight bedtime prayers were early, spontaneous, and over the kitchen sink.

I put my hands on all the heads I could, prayed for those girlies and sent them up, because I knew the best words I could say over them tonight--after TWO broken glass incidents, six lunches packed, one volleyball game with 8 children, three homeschooled, a baby that is fighting me for all she's worth to never be weaned, the 6:15 am carpool and drama over uniforms tomorrow (though this is why we WEAR uniforms)--were going to be to Jesus.

Matt traveling so often and being gone so many evenings is hard, especially the bedtime/showers/teeth/prayers/stories time of night.  Momming so many kiddos means I'm never ever alone, but often lonely. Being the safe place for so many teenage emotions also means being the overlooked, vented on, ignored, sassed, emotional outburst place, and it is wearying. I have to dig so deep to keep my roots in Him.

I am at a place in my life that every down moment is filled with the doctor I had to call, the foster requirement we are behind on, folding the laundry and putting it away as fast as I can, or trying to plan the next meal or next track meet carpool....all while Emma is drawing on the couch with a green marker. In my mind the rest of the world is spending glorious rich time together, eating good food and laughing while walking the waves at sunset... and I am covered in stains and reminding Ben eleventh time today to use his words and not his hands.

Sigh.

I am blogging this blog before falling to bed because when you're praying prayers over children climbing your leg while sweeping up broken glass and listening to yet another ridiculous story that matters to someone, all alone, you're not. When you're far from where you want to be, when your worries feel overwhelming, when it's such a mess it seems impossible and you're all but giving up, He's not.
When you're missing someone so much it hurts, when you're trying to make it all work...and can't quite, when you're giving your all and nobody sees or cares, He does.

When our words want to be harsh, when our spirits are so disappointed, when our souls are hungry and our countenances weary - launching into prayer has become my lifeline.

Talking to Him, He slows me down. He gives me what is needed. He sees me and knows and we can cast all our cares on Him, for He CARES for our cares. 

You are deeply, widely loved and seen.  And if it feels like you are not...dear one...you are wrong. 

Grateful to be in His family.