Wednesdays Are Rough

Wednesdays are rough.
As rough as Sundays? I don't know, but Wednesdays I know, are rough.
I've stayed away from the subject of visitation between the kids and their moms, but today I share.

It's hard.
It's hard to not blurt out why they are living in our home.
It's hard to see a pattern of behavior after visits with mom.
It's hard to not say mean things about mom when they walk through the door with a hand full of junk food and a pocket full of cash.
It's hard as they pass over the thresh hold of our home that the one hour of visitation digs in to their souls and the challenge of our boundaries sets in once again.

The attitude,
the tears,
the meanness,
the anger,
frustration,
exhaustion.

The collapsing on the floor,
the bed
or
perhaps
it's not collapasing
but silliness.
A release of the soul.

Time heals.
It takes a few hours and the kids settle back in to whatever kind of normal we have around here.
God is good like that.
He heals.
He binds up the brokenhearted,
He sets free the captives.

My heart breaks for all involved.
It doesn't have to be this way.

But sin has crept in.
Satan has gotten his foothold.
Lies.
Deceit.
Selfishness.
They swirl around this situation choking out anyone not aware of this trap set by the enemy of our soul.
May we stay aware Lord.
May we not slumber.

Our enemy is blood hungry.
A lion, looking to devour.

At times I think he is sitting their licking the bones of these mothers while they squirm around trying to escape; unwilling to reach out their hand to their Rescuer.

Their Savior, Hope and Abba Father.

My heart breaks.
Hurts.
Makes me ill.

I look up.
I have to.
I look to the joy in this bleak situation.
I look to the beauty in the red, orange and blue sun setting sky,
the flocks of birds scattered around the yard, enjoying the warmth.
I see joy in the sounds of giggling,
laughing.
I see joy in the feet of my mother and 10-year-old dancing, while granddaughter watches in awe.

A crying baby,
the joy of breath.

Dirty feet, messy hair, paint smudged clothing and chocolate mustaches; at those moments what could be better? Life has just been lived.

So Wednesdays are hard,
but I don't mind them.

God knows what He's doing and I am to be obedient in what He does along this path of mine.
As I walk with Him.
For now.
For this Wednesday,
it is visitation,
it is hard.
It is joy.
I rejoice.