When Giving Up Isn't An Option

We finished dinner, the baby started fussing, and I brought him upstairs to nurse. He was tired, after all we did spend the afternoon at the lake and he got his first taste of swimming Minnesota style. He nursed right to sleep but was having a leisurely, sleepy snack, when...

CRASH!

I didn't know what it was, but I knew it was glass and I knew it was history.

Turns out the kids were jumping or running on the couch, an infraction we discussed just this afternoon, and knocked a picture frame off the mantle.

Handsome is at drill tonight, learning about airways, and I'd imagine, new and fun ways to clear or open them. Doesn't that make you feel safe? Well, it makes me a bit crazy because it's another reason he can't be home tonight.  People thinking their airways are important and all that. Anyway I was flustered when we left the beach, so getting home, making dinner, and watching him drive off again didn't help. I cleaned the glass up while texting my friend and came to this feeling of despair.

I want to quit. Quit what, you ask. I don't know, maybe adulthood. Responsibility. In the past 6 months I have dealt with my grandma's hospitalizations (3 just since Dude was born, the most recent being a heart attack less than a week ago), my sister's wedding in which I was the maid of honor (don't call me a matron, it sounds old), I planned 2 wedding showers and a bachelorette party, made the flower girl dresses and designed the invitations, my husband was gone for the army and I called him home because I was in labor, I gave birth, Handsome left again when Dude was less than 2 weeks old, my mom had a d&c the morning Dude was born, was diagnosed with endometrial cancer the following week, had a hysterectomy the week after the wedding, I dropped my dad's cheesecake on the floor yesterday and found out a family friend who we hunt with died Saturday night. CRASH. Too. Much.

Is dropping a cheesecake tragic? Not really. Is my kids destroying property and being wildly disobedient a big deal? Well kinda. Is a death hard? Yes. But add it all together and it nearly feels insurmountable. And you know what really tipped the scale? I talked to my dad today. My dad is pretty chill, things don't rile him, he's very level headed and not emotional at all. I asked him how he was doing today and he told me he was having a hard time focusing. All this stuff, all this weight, it all feels...

And knowing that even my dad is feeling it makes it seem that much more real, that much more legit. I feel sick to my stomach, I want to cry, I want to quit, to scream at God "I'm done, I give up, ENOUGH!"
But what will that accomplish? Will my kids start to obey? Will life simply be kinder, my house cleaner, and my cars stop breaking (oh yeah, we had the second one this month towed to my brother's shop today)? No. So what do I do? Giving up isn't an option. No matter what I do my responsibilities remain.

I don't know, really the question is rhetorical. I move forward, one day at a time. I pray, I seek God for His strength and guidance. I take care of myself (likely story, right?), eat well and get extra rest. And I have faith that this will strengthen me, and while this has been a long storm, it won't last forever.

Romans 8:28 says that God uses these things to work together for good for those that love him and are called by him.

I know I'm called by Him to live this life, so He will fulfill His promise to work all this out for me.
So what do you do when giving up isn't an option? I guess you just have faith.
And put the kids to bed early.