Whenever my husband gets ready for a business trip, I begin my own preparations by buying tons of milk, refreshing our library book stockpile, and making sure the laundry is under control. I do my best to make sure at least the first week alone will go smoothly; by the second week, usually, all bets are off. All the busyness is a ploy to divert my attention from self-pity due to the loneliness and work that is upon my doorstep. And, believe me, it’s on my doorstep right now.

That’s why I was happy to find this poem today by Carmon, mother of 10, on Molly’s site:

The Day of Small Things
By Carmon Friederich
Dedicated to all the young mothers whose weariness and frustrations I understand…Zechariah 4:10

Fretful wailing pierced the night;
I wearily switched on the light.
Calming babies, soothing fears,
Shedding bitter, angry tears.
Must my strength be all poured out?
So, discontent, I start to doubt.

Seeing others free to roam,
With pretty clothes and spotless homes,
While little ones to my legs cling.
Dirty laundry and apron strings
Seem to be my lot in life—
Grumpy mommy, weary wife.

Packed away in mothballs now,
Diplomas, ribbons, awards show how
The world once gave me accolades
As all my talents I displayed.
So many dishes now crowd the sink,
My overflowing brain can’t think.

As I grumble, baby sleeps—
Quietness over my spirit creeps.
My joy comes not from flimsy stuff:
His strength in weakness is enough.
It’s wrong to think I’m in a cell;
Wide’s the space God gives to dwell.

How could I forget that when
I willingly submit, it’s then
My joy is full, I’m made complete,
Prostrate and worshipful at God’s feet?
Small things and trials I mustn’t despise,
But see them, trusting, through His eyes.