The Accuser

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I will sometimes wake up with a little thought, a little critter, bouncing around at the foot of my bed.

It skips into the bathroom with me as I get dressed. I check out the outfit in the mirror and the critter stops playing as it looks at my reflection. It raises its eyebrows. I roll my eyes, “Yeah, well, you try having a flat stomach after four children.” I try to stand a little straighter and suck it in a bit.

I go into the living room with this thing at my heels and I sit at the computer to check my emails. There is a really good blog post and I marvel at its beauty and depth. That little critter of mine climbs onto my back and says with gaiety, “Oh. Didn’t you trying writing something last night? It didn’t go too well, huh? Hmm… have you ever thought that maybe writing isn’t your thing after all?” I am now completely distracted by the question and I allow the little thing to stay where it is instead of shooing it away. I close the emails with sigh. Maybe it’s right.

Breakfasts are served, teeth are brushed, and shoes are tied before we all run out the door for our homeschool academy. We walk into assembly late and I’m already frazzled at the amount of activity caused by my four children. We sit and I attempt to catch my breath. Worship begins, but at this point I am too distracted, too sad, to worship in Spirit and in Truth. The critter on my back keeps playing with my hair and whispering into my ear, “Hey, look at that calm woman who has more children than you do. Hmm… she must know what she’s doing. Did you just see how she looked at you? It’s like she knows you’re frustrated. Hmm…”

It’s right. Writing is a challenge and now I’m frazzled with children just being children; what am I good at anyway? “I know, right? It’s like everyone can all see how inadequate you really are. Hmm… so sad.”

After assembly I help the preschool teacher wrangle toddlers into the classroom and I absentmindedly stack blocks with two year olds and later sit at story time where we read books and sing songs.

I am so discouraged, but this little “pet” of mine seems to be thriving. It finally crawls right into my face and stares with its evil yellow eyes right into mine, into my soul, as it hisses, “I know! I can’t believe He loves you either!”

I blink. It’s gone. My vision is finally clear as I find myself sitting in a circle of two year olds singing, “…and if I were a butterfly, I’d thank You, God, for giving me wings…” And I suddenly hear the words that are coming out of my mouth, “…for you gave me a heart and you gave me a smile. You gave me Jesus and you made me your child…”

I exhale as I sing the prayer, “…and I just thank you Father for making me, me.”

Yes, my vision is clear.

Later that day, while sitting at the park with friends, the critter walks up to the picnic blanket as if nothing happened and says, “You know…”

I look it right in those ugly yellow eyes and with confidence say, “Shut up!”

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