It’s hard to remember that we matter.
On days when the brand new bag of goldfish has not only been dumped out, it’s been walked on…
on days that the dog has chewed off the corner of the bathroom door…
on days when you step on Legos or Littlest Pet Shop creatures and almost curse creatively in front of the children…
on days when the baby finds the Sharpie pen and creates a beautiful mural on the rental house wall…
on days when your teenager acts like you are the most ridiculous person on the planet…
when no one will eat the dinner you made and you’re up to your elbows in dirty dish water, wondering if you’re ever going to get the laundry caught up…
days filled with guilt and regret and feelings of not measuring up…
days when the best thing you can say is, “Well, we survived it.” as you fall into bed, exhausted.
It’s hard to remember that any of this matters.
But it does.
There are a lot of things I didn’t realize before I became a mother at nineteen. I didn’t know that I’d never eat another thing without someone asking for a bite of it. (My almost twenty year old still does this.) I didn’t know that I would count using the restroom unaccompanied as pure joy. (Because it’s so rare.) I didn’t know what exhaustion was. I didn’t know what fear was. I didn’t know what love was.
And now, at 39, with five kids and very nearly twenty years experience, I do.
I know now that every wiped nose, every kissed boo boo, every story I read them is important. I know now that answering a toy cell phone or clapping for a dancing toddler is vital. I know now that every loud, messy, chaotic mealtime feeds not just their bodies, but their souls…and ours.
Every action we do for these little lives He has trusted us with…it builds them up or it tears them down. It teaches them something, for the good or for the ill.
I tried to remember this yesterday when 5:30 came and everyone fell apart…just like they do every day. I had a toddler crying and hanging around my legs…I had a five year old standing by the stove saying, “But I’m so starving, Mommy”…I had a dog whining and barking in the backyard…two different teens to pick up from this place and that. My blood pressure was skyrocketing and my stomach turning thanks to the morning sickness (which lasts all day, I’d like to point out.) I felt myself slipping into irritation and frustration and even a touch of hopelessness.
I looked down at my ankles, where that toddler girl grumbled, where her sister was still starving… and I realized this.
I have a choice.
And so I turned the stove to Low. I got out two bowls and filled them with sliced strawberries. I sat my two littlest ones in my lap and read them a story about a yellow duck. I hugged them tight and they giggled, I kissed their heads- one auburn, one blonde. I breathed deep and thanked Him for this moment, for these ones.
I said thank you for love.
And I asked for the strength to remember this moment at the next crisis point, the next meltdown moment…I asked Him to remind me the importance of my calling.
The truth is, sometimes I will remember and make the better choice and sometimes I won’t. But He is with me, either way.
When have you chosen well? When have you chosen poorly? Were you able to see Him in both?
By: Chris, RestorationLeave a Comment