Five Minute Friday, where the girls are amazing, the chocolate is always present, and your heart will always be blessed. Come, join us. At Lisa Jo’s table.
Some days. Some days I think this prompt was written just for me. Today is one of those days. This month has been one of those months. Where the world is crashing and the curtains are torn off the walls and the posters are shredded. It has been a house full of screaming and tantrums, not a house full of giggles and laughter. And each day we choose. We choose to get up. We choose to love him again, and love him more, beyond the hurtful words and the hitting and kicking. We choose to come home each day, after the running away and the screaming. Because we chose him. We found him, knew from the first time we saw him that he should be ours, and we fought for him. We stood before a judge and promised to be his parents for life.
For better or worse.
In tantrums and not.
In hurtful words and broken hearts.
In moments of giggles and days, months, years of tears.
We chose him. Just as we chose them all. And tonight I told him this, again. Tonight I sat on his bedside and cried over the words he said to me and to his dad. I told him of our broken hearts, and when he screamed the lies, I rebuffed them with the fact that he was chosen. I told him that it doesn’t matter how much he pushes us away, we will always come back. I said that even when he’s been unkind, we will still come home every night. And no matter what he does, he will always be a part of our family. Because we chose him.
And I have to think, how many times does Jesus think the same of me? Does he sit on my bedside as I sleep, or in the shotgun seat as I drive, and whisper words of love to my heart? Does his heart break as I push and pull away, fighting to do things my own way. My own choices. How I want it, when it’s not what’s best for me or what I need. Does he wait for me to wake up each morning and watch to see if I choose him, or choose me. Because when it all comes down to it, we all choose.
We choose to love.
We choose to be loved.
We choose to build up, or to tear down.
And some days, we choose to put our heart on a page at the whim of a prompt. Because maybe there’s another mamma out there with a broken heart who can understand. Or who just needs to hear that she’s not alone. Or maybe because I just need to remind myself that no matter how hard tonight was, tomorrow I will choose to get up and do it all again.