Some Days

Some days (like today) I feel like a failure.

Some days, I wonder why I even bother.

This is not an "in general" feeling. In fact, it's pretty specific.

As a parent of an emotional, high-energy, dare-I-say gifted child, I am challenged. Daily, at the very least. Generally hourly.

Today, it has been minute-by-minute. For three hours. That's one-hundred-and-eighty minutes for all you mathy people.

I want to do EXACTLY what she does, and throw myself on the floor sobbing.

And I feel like a failure.

I question: Where did I go wrong? Why am I the only one that is allowed to see this side of her? Why did I bother thinking that I *could* not only parent her, but school her, teach her, as well?

The Daddy has asked why we can never seem to make it outside until late in the day, if at all - and generally I'm too exhausted to explain. Three hours of screaming, kicking, throwing things, tearing things will do that to you.

And it happens at least once a week. Sometimes every day for weeks. Except when the Daddy is home. Of course.

Homeschooling wasn't the beginning, believe me. It has been years of this. Homeschooling has simply brought it into a much sharper focus because now I don't get a break - there is no preschool, kindergarten, anything, to send her off to.

I'm exhausted. I want to run away, give my children to someone else, and say, "HERE, they're yours, because I can't do it anymore and SURELY SOMEONE ELSE can do a better job than I can."

And so I must wrestle. I must fight. This is as much about me as it is her. I can't give in simply because it's easier. God Himself has entrusted me with this child, and I must honor His will, His gift, by giving her the very best of me.

Even when it has been one-hundred-and-eighty minutes. Because when I snap, on minute one-hundred-and-eighty-one - which I have, OH SO MANY TIMES - then I am not honoring any of us, let alone Him, He Who is the Creator of the Universe. And we have to start all over.

Because my rough places are just as rough as hers. Because I have just as much to learn.

So I question: Who am I, that You, oh God, would entrust me with such a job? What do You have for me that only my child, my precious girl, can teach me? What would You desire of me that I should emulate and teach both my girls? About life? About holiness? About YOU?

So I plead: Help me, oh Lord. Teach me, oh Lord. Grant me patience. Let Your love shine through.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the storm is over.

The sun is still shining outside. It never stopped. I just stopped looking for a little while, because the tears threatened to overwhelm me.

There is peace. I am ready for whatever the next minute holds. And we may make it outside after all.