I plopped down on the end of the couch, the only clean spot I could find. I was tired — tired from the everyday responsibilities that came with raising three young girls and tired from moving into the home we’d recently purchased.
I had lost my sense of reasoning two years ago after having two girls only a year apart.
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Leaning my head back on the couch, I stared at the partially painted ceiling, the white perimeters in stark contrast to the yellowed center around the ceiling fan. Not wanting to be reminded of all the work ahead of me, I let my head flop to the right. That’s when I noticed it. Blue crayon.
My beige lamp and lampshade were streaked with blue crayon! I suddenly caught a second wind. “Who colored my lamp?” I knew that was a stupid question, but I had lost my sense of reasoning two years ago after having two girls only a year apart.
Nevertheless, I repeated, “Who colored my lamp blue?” The sound of scrambling feet overhead was my only response. Forcing myself off the couch, I headed for the stairs, only to discover the stairwell was color-coordinated with my lamp. Blue scribbles pointed me in the direction of my aspiring interior decorators.
A peek into my 7-year-old’s room revealed her resting and watching a video. But when I entered my 2- and 1-year-olds’ room,
I stared at swirls on the wall and the carpet.
When had they found the time to color the lamp and stairwell? I thought. And when had they exchanged a blue crayon for a black permanent marker? Taking a deep breath, I pondered my options. I could scream, rant and rave, but that would require quite a bit of energy I knew I didn’t have. Or I could run and try to find my Bible in one of the boxes marked “Books.”
I chose the second option. A frantic search turned up my Bible. I quickly turned to Matthew 19:14: “Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.” I had remembered it saying, “Suffer the parents of little children … for they shall inherit the kingdom of heaven.”
Obviously, my memory was faulty. I need your help, God! I sat in momentary silence, which usually is dangerous with toddlers about. But I welcomed the peace and quiet as I waited for God to speak to me. I was exhausted beyond belief and needed reassurance that being tired was part of being a parent.
Flipping back a few pages, I rediscovered Matthew 11:28. “Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” The bold highlights and asterisks in the column reminded me that I had referred to this verse before.
A calmness surrounded me as I read this Scripture — and not a moment too soon. Rounding the corner were my two youngest daughters, clad in diapers, a smile and permanent black “makeup.”
I kissed their black lips, tucked them in for their afternoon naps and pushed past boxes until I found my bed. Resting my head on the pillow, I knew God must have had parents in mind when this verse was written. I kept repeating Matthew 11:28 as I drifted off to sleep.
Next time I need this verse, I won’t have to rush to my Bible. This particular Scripture is permanently highlighted in my Bible and permanently etched into my brain.
— Lori Marett
