Am I strong?

The last six Sundays or so have brought a majority of Sundays in which DH doesn't sit with us, and may not actually even be in the building during our meetings due to his high council duties. I could say that I am a dutiful and faithful wife and that I sit serenly with my angelic children during our meetings regardless of the location of DH. That would be a lie. Not only are the moments of angelic behavior on the part of children in our family woefully few and rarely apparent in church, I am not nearly as dutiful, faithful or serene as I should be; I am grumpy. But while our experiences over the past several weeks have been nothing if not comical (including me tripping in the chapel after the meeting, while holding Bam and the usual 16 bags and making FULL body contact with the floor and from which, almost a month later, I am still recovering), I have learned to let go just a little bit more of bothersome pride. Yes, I was mortified when I bit the dust in front of several hundred of our ward members. Yes, I was frustrated and irritated by CW when he chose to interpret the definition of reverence to include repeatedly putting his FOOT in Z's face throughout the meeting. And yes, I dread each announcement by DH of another assignment which will take him away from our pew during church (all the while my head begins to spin trying to find the solution which will help us through, quietly, this time) But, each week has brought me a renewed outpouring of love and sisterhood from the women of my ward. Wendy supplied "new" activities for Bam when the bag of toys I brought was loudly rejected. Leah kept an eye on the middle kids when I had to drag CW and Em out during the sacrament. Fawn insisted on taking CW so I could listen to DH's talk (when he spoke in our ward). Kim regularly offers her daughters in any capacity I require and takes Em for me. Countless women have held my baby so I could wrestle with boys, teach Gospel Doctrine and fall flat on my face in the chapel (if I had been holding her, she would have been crushed) A friend told me I was so strong to not cry after falling down in church and even better, getting up and teaching my lesson more or less how I had planned (admittedly a little scrambled due to the fall). I treasure this woman's friendship and think she is so very strong, so her comment has made quite an impression on me. Because I'm not strong. I am weak and simple, but I am surrounded by strength and I'm learning, a little each day, to accept those offers of strength, of help, to humble myself so that the Lord can use me in my weaknesses until He makes me strong enough for the next task.