Three Quarter Blues

Mimi,

As you bound around the house in your flashy new Nikes, I'm reminded...

I used to race the mile. I was not an immensely gifted runner, nor did I ever win, but it was my favorite track event and I was blazing fast compared to any pace I could currently hold for the distance.

I love the simplicity and symmetry of the mile event. Four laps around an oval. I knew, by heart, what my split times should be every 200 meters along the 1600 meter course.

Now ideally, in a race like this, you’d start out conservative and quicken your pace until you are putting it all out there on the fourth and final lap. But in every mile race of my mediocre career, the same thing always happened.

The gun would go off and I’d try to not sprint, conserving my energy for the rest of the race. Sure enough, the second lap was predictably faster than the first. But regardless of the exact lap times, something inevitably happened on the third lap. I petered out. Like the old Sesame Street segment “One of these things is not like the others”, the third lap was always pitiful. And here’s why- I was too far along to give up completely but still no where near the finish. I’ve come to call it my Three Quarter Blues predicament. It’s been a long time since I’ve donned those scant racing shoes with little spikes, but this issue has scampered right off the track and into other areas of my life.

In college it would look like this: I’d be three quarters of the way through the semester when my study habits would mysteriously vanish. Even now, I could fill a bookshelf of good-reads I’d gotten about three quarters through only to drop or skim the last pages. And honestly, well, most of my cop-out mama comebacks surface right around 4:00pm, about three quarters through my day. You know, words like “because I said so!”

I have grown in patience, but sometimes I loose sight of the finish line and all heck breaks loose, and the evil twin of your mama appears.

“Let us not grow weary in doing good, for in due time we shall reap a harvest.” -Gal 6:9

My harvest in parenting is raising a child who’s heart Christ can reach and work though.

Lord, help me get through each day glorifying you.  I’m in this for the long haul. As I strive after You, help me find tangible ways to point to you throughout all the days these babies live under my roof. As always, I ask for  patience, passion and perseverance as a mom.  You have done amazing things for me, as a mom, thank you!