The past week has been pretty awful. I have a brother who is hurting and taking it out on himself and his family, mainly my parents. Yesterday Evan woke up from nap and decided to paint with poop- all over his crib and walls. The girls have been off the wall- super hyper and into everything- probably a lot of that has to do with the fact that it’s been so hot and we can’t play outside. Yesterday my doctor’s office called and told me to come in to get blood work done and to get the container for a 24-hour urine- I should have been able to do it all at my appt. on Tuesday, but had to change that appointment to Monday b/c of the stuff with my brother. Because the NP didn’t know that I had changed my appointment, she didn’t know to catch me and give me the paperwork. I know this sounds unrelated, but today was the breaking point. I got up this morning to mounds of laundry and dishes that I didn’t wash last night because I was too busy throwing up from morning sickness. I started getting myself and the kids ready to go to the doctor for the blood work. I talked to my mom on the phone and offered to pick something up for her in Spartanburg since we’d already be there. And I sat down to feed Matthew. As I was feeding him, I kept calling Naaman to come eat. He didn’t come and didn’t come and didn’t come. He was playing with Sarah in the girls room. Gabi casually mentioned that Sarah had Matthew’s formula. What? Sarah can’t climb the kitchen gate. I looked on the counter and, sure enough, it was missing. I ran to the bedroom and Sarah and Naaman had dumped formula, expensive formula, a half of a very large can of very expensive formula, all over the girls floor and Gabi’s bed. I could lie and say that I handled it gently. I didn’t. I went ballistic. James called at that moment and I went from screaming what happened into the phone to him to screaming at the girls. Why? Why would you do this? You KNOW you’re not supposed to touch his formula! It was awful. I eventually hung up with James and cleaned up the mess, still yelling at the girls intermittently. It was awful. I was awful. So sinful. And so mad. Mad that they did it. Mad that we lost all that formula. Mad that formula costs so much. Mad that my husband has such a poor-paying job and that the cost is even an issue. I know- really unrelated- but I’m being honest here. I lost it. I started thinking about teaching and letting James stay home with the kids. I started thinking about getting a part-time job and leaving as soon as he gets home from work. Of doing something, anything, so that I would get to stop worrying about money. And you know what happened? When I finally calmed down and went back to feeding Matthew, I got a phone call. And I almost didn’t answer it because I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. But I answered anyway. And you know who it was? It was a friend calling to ask if I could use some Similac formula. She was going to drop it off at the pregnancy center, but she thought of me. No, I’m not making this up. I was so mad. Mad at God. Ridiculous and sinful, I know. But I was. And in all of my nasty, awful sin, that’s what He did. He didn’t punish me. He didn’t leave me on my own. He sent formula. And now, instead of having to take 5 children to the grocery store by myself, formula will be delivered to my door. Free formula. I don’t understand it. I was so unforgiving of my children. And what they did was so much less than the way I acted toward them, my husband, and God. I can honestly say that I don’t get it. I don’t get grace. But I’m so grateful for it. And I’ve talked to God and my children. And they’ve forgiven me. Even though I really truly don’t deserve it. And I’ll talk to my husband at lunch. And he’ll forgive me. Because that’s how he is. I am so grateful for grace- grace that I most surely don’t deserve, even on my “best,” most “good” day.