Morning Lord.  A small celebration this morning, Lord, as I realise I am coming to the end of my first month of prayer journaling.  Goodness knows what you have made of all my ramblings, Lord.  I know sometimes I don’t actually end up asking you for anything.  But I do feel better than I did, Lord.  At the same time, I sometimes get the feeling that this is only the beginning, Lord, that you want to take me somewhere else, which does scare me.  It’s a strange feeling of knowing things could be better than they are, but not wanting things to change because of the unknown.

I know there is some change in me, though Lord, because two things happened yesterday that did not upset me as much as they might have.  The first was Linley calling to tell me she is up for promotion, that, finally, she might have a shot at becoming a partner in that huge law firm she works for.  I felt not one jot of jealousy, but instead felt pleased for Linley, who has worked very hard.  I hope she is not disappointed again this time, Lord.

The other thing was Emily’s declaration that she loves her teacher, Miss Hollis, more than she even loves me.  Of course Miss Hollis isn’t much older than Emily herself, and of course it’s easy to smile and be sweet with all the children when you can send them home at three o’clock in the afternoon and not have to put up with their shenanigans when they are tired and grumpy and have used up all of their angelic quotient for the day on someone other than their mother.  Of course it’s easy to be lovable when you haven’t had any children and are in great shape, and only have yourself to spend your wages on and can afford smart clothes.  So I factored all these in to Emily’s statement and again, not one jot of jealousy!

Be with me today, lord, I pray in Jesus’ name…Amen.

Afternoon Lord.  Well, here I am, just me with everyone else safely where they are supposed to be on a Monday afternoon.

I feel quite thoughtful, Lord, after yesterday’s service.  A lot seemed to happen for me to process.  First off, the really bad stuff – Nathan and Emily fighting in Sunday School and being unceremoniously returned to me at the end of the service by the Sunday School teacher, Diana. She then proceeded to regale me with the tale of their dispute, before asking me to sort them out, then stalking off.

I couldn’t help looking at the impish, slightly guilty faces of my children, then over at Faith and Trinity, dressed immaculately in clothes fit for meeting the Queen, proudly showing what they had made to Logan and Caroline.  I felt my lips go into a line and held my breath in case I should scream.  I ask you again, Lord, why did I have to have two children who feel the need to fight so much?  And again, I ask, just what is it I am supposed to do to modify their behaviour?

Diana, of course, can’t be too shy of 70 years old, and I suspect her patience is well past its sell-by date.  I suspect the programme is also part of the problem.  I wouldn’t be surprised if boredom featured as the main catalyst.  What am I supposed to do about that?

Then there was Claire, hovering in the hope of find yet more reasons to criticise me.  But then, surprisingly, she came over and thanked me for her birthday gift.  I wonder if Andrew actually said something to her?  Maybe he did.  He wouldn’t tell me if I asked, though.

No sign of Ashley this morning.  Must invite her over.

Then there was the sermon, Lord.  Daniel talked about Esther, about where she found herself, and how that turned out to be just the right place at the right time.  “And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?”  Mordecai said to her.  Most thought-provoking words, Lord.  The funny thing was, when Daniel was busy talking about Esther, I was thinking about Cameron.  I’m not sure why he is coming home, why he is coming to us, but I did get a real sense that his coming is not random.

That’s the thing with you, Lord.  Where you’re concerned, things are always more than they seem.  Help me understand your ways more, Lord.  I know you are calling me deeper.  I just wish I felt more worthy of your call, Lord.

Amen.

Sunday, Lord.  Your day!  I pray, very briefly while hiding once again in the bathroom since it is the only peaceful, lockable room in the house, that you would cleanse me and make me right in your sight before we go to church, Lord.

Better go, running horribly late!

Amen!

A rare Saturday prayer time, Lord!  However, another small emergency has cropped up!  As you well know (I’m not sure why I feel the need to explain things to you that you already know about!) Andrew’s best friend and best man, Cameron, has called to say he is moving back to New Zealand and was just wondering if he could come and stay with us until he gets settled.

Of course Andrew said yes.  What else could he say?  But Lord, I feel like he just invited Trouble to come and stay.  What with Cameron’s terrible childhood and hugely dysfunctional family, he’s a man with a lot of baggage.  I asked Andrew what has prompted Cameron to give up his glitzy Sydney life and come back to little old New Zealand, but Andrew never asked.  I can’t help but be curious.

I’m not sure how I will cope, Lord.  It’s not that I don’t like Cameron, but he’s just sort of dangerous around the edges, and apart from the fact that it will mean more work for me, I suspect it will also mean less help from Andrew.

Still, as I say, what else could Andrew do?  Thankfully he doesn’t arrive for another three weeks.  I pray you would help me use that time to get organised and prepared.  How on earth he’ll cope with the children I don’t know.  I can’t think of anyone less paternal – except perhaps Andrew’s cold father.

Better stop there, Lord, before I start writing things I shouldn’t.

Amen.

Morning Lord…well, just when I thought I had put the whole birthday fiasco behind me, it appears to be rearing its ugly head again.  Firstly, I should say thank you for allowing me to hear you words, Lord.  It made me stop and think of how much I have to gain by coming to you – and by the time Andrew came home from work I felt a sense of restoration – as though I could be more forgiving and be truly sorry for having shouted at him like a fishwife.  I know he is only trying to do his best.

But then another small, black cloud has appeared on the horizon this morning, this time in the form of my mother, phoning all upset because she and Dad weren’t invited to Claire’s birthday dinner.  But, Lord, really, their presence would only have created more tension, just as it did last year.  Claire and William are just so neat and tidy and have nothing in common with my chaotic mother and campaigning father – plus you can see Claire is always judging them because they aren’t Christians.

On top of this it seems quite clear that Mum and Dad are not getting on at the moment.  Nothing new there, I suppose.  I can just imagine what Claire would have said about my parents in full bicker mode.  No doubt she would think it explained a thing or two about my behaviour.

I’m not sure why Mum would even have wanted to be invited.  I’m not sure she even vaguely likes Claire.  It’s just so hard to understand the motives of other – I have trouble enough understanding why I do the things I do.

I should have them around more, I know.  I should also pray for their salvation.  Be with them, Lord, I pray.

Amen.

P.S  Can’t believe the news about Michael Jackson – it’s a funny old world

Afternoon Lord.  Feeling very much in need of talking with you right now.  I’m not sure what to do or think at the moment – and I can only imagine what you think of me after that huge fight Andrew and I had.  We never argue – well, not like that, anyway.  It was a bit frightening to be honest.

But I was just so mad, Lord.  Mad that Andrew didn’t have the guts to tell his mother to mind her own business about how we choose to raise our children, mad that he didn’t defend me, to point out how much trouble and effort I’d gone to, mad that he tried to make her feel better.  I know she is his mother, but really, Lord, I am his wife.  Biblically speaking, I am supposed to be his priority.

But if I was in the right, why is it that I now feel so wrong?  Am I wrong to want to be respected by my husband and his family?  Am I wrong to want a small slice of the justice pie?  I don’t know why I have so much trouble with that ‘turn the other cheek’ idea you set out.  It’s just so hard when things aren’t fair.

Yet somehow I hear your words… “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

I’m here, Lord.  I hear your call.  Please grant me your rest.

Amen.

Night time, Lord.  Sorry I failed to get to this prayer journal before now.  There’s something about Wednesdays and Saturdays that make me miss it completely.  Different routine, I suppose.

Of course, I’m in the bathroom with the door locked, not my usual prayer location, but truly, I’m not sure I want to see Andrew at the moment.  I just want to be by myself.

Lord, I know that you want us to love one another, to be united, especially with other believers, but Lord, I seem to be all out of love and patience where my mother-in-law is concerned.  She’s just been on the phone, complaining to Andrew about her birthday dinner last night, completely ignoring the fact that I went to a lot of trouble to prepare that dinner, to make things nice, to get her a pleasant present and not something she deserved.

Instead, she made a point of not only criticising the dessert I made (how was I supposed to know how unsuitable milk chocolate is for making chocolate mousse?) but to criticise our parenting skills since Nathan had the impertinence to let his fingers stray into her handbag.  What did she think he was trying to do, Lord?  Steal the Crown Jewels?

I know my mother is certainly no paragon of virtue (and drives me equally mad in different ways) but at least she wouldn’t make a fuss about Nathan being curious.  In fact, knowing her handbag and her tidying skills, she’d probably have interesting things in there to amuse him – artefacts from her childhood or at least toffees from the last century petrified in there.  Claire probably doesn’t even have old lint in hers.  And at least my mother would give them a coin or two regardless, not phone up and demand explanations and apologies.

I pray for patience, Lord.  I just don’t seem to have enough…Amen

Morning Lord.  Thought I’d better get my praying in early since it’s Claire’s birthday and she and William are coming for dinner.  I’ll need all the help I can get today, Lord.  Ashley has already phoned to say she has had a change of shift and has to work, so won’t be coming.  I find this strange – it is her mother’s birthday after all.  I mean I know her job as a dispatcher for emergency services is important, but without her calming influence does she not realise I’ll be the one calling for an ambulance?

It makes me think I was right, that something is up with her.  Again, I pray that you would be with her and provide what she needs, Lord.

As for me, I pray you would give me every angel you can spare to help me not burn the dinner, not miss a speck of dust when I tidy up, to keep the children under control, and to send Andrew home on time.

Better get peeling the potatoes!  There’s a meat-and-three-veg couple if ever there was one.

In Jesus’ name I pray…Amen.

Afternoon Lord.  I thought I would pray for five minutes before going to bed after the twenty-four hours I’ve had.

Mercifully, Nathan is finally asleep after being up most of the night being violently ill.  Could I just say at this point that I despise vomit?  What is it about the stuff that gets so into everything?

Thankfully, the rest of us are fine, and after calling Caroline this morning, all the Wests are fine too.  I can only conclude the fault lies not with Fairy Esmerelda and her Grotto from Hell, but with Nathan’s inability to limit himself at the food table. 

I guess, as usual, that I am partly to blame since I did not closely supervise what that boy had to eat (nor, it could be pointed out, did his father!) but really, by Nathan’s age, you would think you’d be able to trust him to manage one small birthday party.

No doubt he took advantage of the chaos and made the most of the situation.  What with eight eight year olds clamouring for Fairy Esmerelda’s attention, our two adding to the mix, and Christian acting like a child possessed, he certainly had ample opportunity to sneak extra food.

It was an odd party, Lord.  Picture perfect in many ways (and undoubtedly expensive!) but odd.  Faith seemed desperate for attention (which I hadn’t noticed before), Trinity seemed keen to escape it (even though Caroline insisted she play for everyone) and Christian, well, I realised it has actually been a while since I’ve seen him.  I realised how often the nanny has him when Caroline and I meet.  Has that boy always been such a monster?  He seemed almost wild.  Perhaps it was just too much sugar and excitement?

Sleep now, Lord.  Please heal Nathan – in case the worst isn’t actually over.

Amen.

Morning Lord.  No church for us today on account of Faith’s birthday at Fairy Esmerelda’s Grotto of Enchantment (the only booking Caroline could get).  I must say that, in light of my recent steps forward with our relationship, I find myself feeling a bit regretful about not going to church, even though it will mean I don’t have to see my in-laws.

In spite of this, I still wanted to check in with you, to thank you for being with me wherever I am, and to ask that you would give us a blessed day, and a great time with Caroline and Logan and their family.  I can’t believe Faith is eight, Lord.  Where did that time go?  It seems five minutes since Caroline was giving me the happy news and moaning about morning sickness.  How much water has gone under the bridge since then!

Be with us, I pray…Amen.