Dying and Rising

This weekend was hard. It seems like it should have been wonderful. We transformed the office into a playroom for the boys and Joey built a train/car table for them.
But the boys are sick and emotional and just absurd at times.
Both boys do not have a lot of patience with each other at the moment.
I lost mine on Saturday (and I am still looking for it.)
I feel tired and empty and I long to mother well.
But I don't long to die to self when the rubber meets the road.
It's inconvenient and it feels like crap.
Just when I felt I was making some progress with this, this weekend happened, and the whole dying to self thing really seems to have flown out the window.
But isn't our hope that death is not the end?
So maybe dying to self is really rising with Christ, or better yet Christ rising in us.
Christ in us, the hope of glory.
Christ in me, the patience to see beyond tears and screams to the hearts of little boys.
Christ in me, the love to pick up another snotty tissue off the floor.
Christ in me, the kindness to listen to the unending flow of four-year-old lips.
Christ in me, the ability in give thanks (even if nap time ends up being short and attitudes are not much improved).
Christ in me, the strength in my weakness.
Christ in me, the fullness of life.

This I long for.
Christ.