God grant me the patience to let go of the things that I can not change. Like the fact that my son is a whole lot like myself, and probably why he makes me so loco.
Let me breathe deeply when I discover a sharpie pen in the dryer after it has created a work of art out of my latest load. Praise God for oxyclean and ink remover.
Give me strength when we realize on the same morning that the $50 hiking boots worn less than half a dozen times, the lunch pack and boy scout t-shirts are all MIA when they are needed for the latest adventure. Please help me limit how many times I utter #$*@ and let it be out of earshot of gentle ears. Let me understand that I could have had the foresight to check the night before for all these things so that I wouldn’t raise my blood pressure 50 points half hour before we need to get out the door.
Let me count to ten when I look for my stapler and scissors as they have disappeared into the great abyss that is our home. Remind myself that all that nagging to return things sometimes does produces the desired results.
Please help me to overlook the cardboard hanging from the tree outside that is being used for the latest sport of sword practice. Help me close my eyes to the shelf that made its way to my porch that is draped with tarp as a greenhouse incubates there. Let me realize that allowing creativity at the price of a little unsightliness is not such a big sacrifice.
Give me understanding when I see that yet again that a backhoe is necessary to clear out the disaster area also known as a bedroom. Help me to see that I probably could have intervened a bit sooner before the wrecking ball was necessary.
Help me to remember when he did a chore or made a snack for his brother without being told the next time he whacks him up side the head. These are the bonds you remember as brothers.
Please help me to look fondly upon the last big hurtie hug and “I love you mom” the next time “WHATEVER” accompanied by a big shrug and cavalier attitude is displayed. Help me to gently remind him that is not appropriate instead of getting my face two inches from his own.
Please let them see that I might be blowing a gasket at the slower than snail pace because I am tired and cranky myself.
Revel in the fact that my boys love doing family things together, and understand that I must cherish these times as the teenage years are quickly upon the horizon. And you just don’t know how long being a family will still be cool.
Thank you lord for every day that I get to spend with my little men. Please help them to realize that I am only human, am trying my best and only raise my voice with love.