When your seven year old comes home from school and you learn that he is testing boundaries there, as he is at home, and you feel helpless in his absence and the weight of the unknown for his tomorrow.
When you're pulled in four different directions as four children are needing and chaos is pounding lies into your head, playing off the message that you've got to have it all together, but you never will all of the time.
And when you determine that you will not be angry as you shuffle each one to a place of quiet and sweep the littlest one up in your arms, plop yourselves on the couch and hold her close. Then offer the other three up because you cannot be in all four places and you just can't reach all four hearts at the same time all of the time.
And you sit there and love on one who is representing all and let the tears flow because all you really want is for them to know Jesus, and you wonder why you don't come to this place often enough.
The place where dry land meets living water and you recognize you will whither without it and you cast your burdens and their burdens on Him because you must believe that He is able to do the very thing that you can't.
Another enters the room and I pull her in close. I open a book and read aloud in a peaceful place, as I hear two more playing separately in the distance, and I know that everything will be okay.