The Days When I'm Not a Super Mom

A sweet friend of mine gave me this mug of treats a couple of weeks ago.  Isn't it great?

And there are days when I feel like a super-hero, a wonder woman of a mom.  I banish dirt, grime, and in-fighting from my domain.  I restore order from the chaos over and over again.  I do all the things on my list.

And then there are days when the battle against my own sin rages hard, and I lose.  I lose patience with what seems to be a constant barrage of requests and needs calling for my attention.  I don't have the strength to be self-disciplined or maybe I just don't feel like it. 

I hate those days.  I hate feeling like a loser.

I had one of those days yesterday, so full of inward frustration.  There was really nothing wrong with the day itself, just my heart.

I went for a run after dinner in the cool after the storm.  My heart felt like the cool after the storm, too, after remembering that weakness is where God delights to show strength.  I just haven't learned to delight in my weaknesses yet.  I'd rather be strong, thank you very much.  I'd rather wear my cape.  

When my jog slowed to a walk I let my soundtrack move over to some hymns that I almost skipped, but then I knew I needed to hear words like these:

I need no other argument, I need no other plea.  It is enough that Jesus died and that He died for me.

What more can He say than to you He has said, to you who for refuge to Jesus have fled?

And I will never grow out of my need for hearing those words, for needing to feel my weakness and sin that I might believe the gospel again, believe that there is a big God with a lavish amount of grace for even me.