The calendar on the refrigerator had so many dates circled it looked like a geometry test. The kitchen sink was piled with white bowls and plates like a mouth crowded with teeth. A laundry basket in the hallway grinned mockingly, the red sock hanging over the side looking amazingly like a stuck-out tongue. The oven light was out, and the soup had spilled over and burned on the eye of the stove, filling the house with an acrid aroma. There wasn’t enough milk for Janie‘s sippy cup; there were cookies due for the playgroup party tomorrow, and Noah has just discovered the Christmas presents trying to hide in her closet.
Then the phone rang. It was the neighbor. The dog had broken loose from his run and ransacked their trash barrel.
Celeste was tempted to tell Mr. West to donate him at the Salvation Army kettle by Walmart, but she prayed, grit her teeth, and tried to sooth the none-too-amiable older man next door. She hung up the phone and collapsed on a kitchen stool. Was this the real picture of holiday joy? She heard a crash from upstairs.
Mommy!
She found Noah sitting among the shards of her favorite figurine, his tiny thumb dripping blood. It was, as her grandma used to say, the breaking point. She cried, sat down next to her toddler and howled for a moment. Noah was so shocked that he quieted and looked at her in wonder.
I can‘t do this, God. Maybe I wasn’t ever cut out to be a mother. I mean, I can‘t even handle a normal household and a couple kids, let alone keep my husband happy and wear a smile to church! What am I supposed to do here? I need major help. Please!‖
If she had expected to hear the rustle of wings or see a shining light, she was disappointed. The floor was still littered with sharp, glittery pieces, the kitchen was still in disarray and at that moment, Janie woke up and began crying.
Her domestic world was still a bit fractured. But somehow she had the strength to wipe her eyes, hug Noah and start the process of clean-up. A band-aid, a broom, and a few minutes later and the mess was gone. She picked up Janie and put her in the baby swing. She got Noah settled at the table with a cup of yogurt. Then she faced the kitchen.
It taunted her again; she ignored it. First, clear the sink, then clean the stove, next, fold the laundry. Now, give Janie a cup of juice and sit Noah down with a coloring book. Finally, remove the calendar and make a list of the events they needed to attend.
The afternoon was gone too soon. Celeste never did get that quiet moment to read the new book on her nightstand. Instead, she read ―Baby Bunny‘s First Christmas to a little boy with a band-aid on his thumb and eyes that looked like his daddy‘s. She rocked a baby girl and changed two diapers in the space of an hour. She explained again that Noah couldn’t experiment with the light strands on the Christmas tree because it might hurt him. She put dinner in the oven and wiped the smears off the bathroom mirror. She still wished for a wonderful hour of comfort and joy, for a latte and a nap. But she found that she had just enough calm to make it through the day, and she counted that a great triumph.
Somehow she had picked up the idea that the peace Jesus promised would erase the stress of life, even the busy season of motherhood or the crowded holiday schedule. But maybe that was wrong. The Father promised strength in measure to her need. It didn’t remove the outer strain, but would match it with divine stamina. Without that grace, the equation of life was unbalanced. With it, there was no missing factor. And as Celeste sat by Christmas tree with her children on her lap, she knew that, in a few days, she would feel merry again. But, in the meantime, His grace was enough.
