Wretched Monday

by Deborah A. Tremblay
(Watervliet, NY)

It had been a particularly wretched Monday. My seven-year-old son Joshua was covered with chicken pox. In between comforting him, coaxing him to eat, preparing his oatmeal baths and reminding him not to scratch, I tried to soothe my nine-month-old son Caleb, who was cutting teeth. Despite my best efforts, both boys were miserable. I searched for childcare tips online, but my computer kept freezing up on me.

My home looked as though a cyclone had hit it. Breakfast and lunch dishes littered the sink. Laundry spilled out of the hamper onto the floor. The beds were still unmade and the bathroom needed cleaning. I hadn’t enough time to shower or even down some coffee and was still in my robe. When the cat coughed up a fur ball on my newly steam-cleaned carpet, I thought I’d go mad.

The telephone rang for the umpteenth time that day. When I wrested the phone from Caleb’s sticky hands, I heard my husband on the other end. “We’re going to need to put some overtime in to get this job done. Sorry for missing dinner again. Kiss the boys for me. See you tonight.”

My heart sank. Every fiber of my being had been longing for him to come home. I knew we needed the money, so I tried not to be upset. I tried to sound supportive and keep a good perspective. I found myself dumbly staring into the receiver long after he had said goodbye.

'Hello, Lord. It’s Monday. Need I say more?'

I put Caleb down for his nap, flopped on the sofa, and surrendered to the bout of tears that had been building all day. In the throes of my pity, I barely heard the doorbell. Quickly, I dried my eyes and tried to pull myself together. When I opened the door, my mother-in-law, Kate, was on my doorstep. An elegant, well-kept woman, my husband’s mother had raised six children, been a model wife, ably managed a home, and had been active in her church. I suddenly felt ashamed.

'How can I ever measure up, Lord?'

She took one look at me and her eyes clouded with concern. “Have you been crying?” she asked as she touched my arm. “What’s wrong? Can I help?” She stepped inside the doorway and into my world of chaos. Just then, Joshua began calling.

Kate eyed me perceptively. “You’re having a wretched Monday, aren’t you?” All I could do was nod.

Inside the house, she took skillful control. First, she sent me for a long, hot bath. While I soaked and relaxed, she cleaned my home and prepared us a marvelous dinner. Her warm smile and a hot meal greeted me when I emerged from my bath.

The rest of the evening, she played chess with Joshua, fed and rocked Caleb, and told me humorous and touching stories of the struggles she herself had as a young mother. At bedtime, she readied the boys for sleep and tucked them in. Almost instantly, they nodded off, lulled by her magic. Calm descended upon the house.
Before she left, she hugged me goodbye.

“Thank you for being such a great wife, mother, and daughter-in-law,” she told me.

I was speechless. With that, she headed outside and drove away.

It may have been my mother-in-law who visited yet it was God who came calling that day. How do I know? Because I felt His ministering love in a quiet, deep-down, wretched Monday sort of way.