This morning I had a “moment.”
If you have seen “Mom's Night Out”
or if you are a mom, or a woman, or a human, then likely, you know
what I mean. A “moment” is when you just cannot take “it”
anymore, whatever “it” is. The truth is that my life is filled
with a myriad of blessings: the cutest kids on the planet, and a
wonderful husband, countless memories, innumerable opportunities to
speak truth into their little hearts and minds, etc. etc....
But...
All the stuff in between said mountain
top experiences can be...um...really hard. Hamster wheel comes to
mind whenever I think of cleaning or cooking or any of my other
chores.
I.just.don't.stop.doing them.
But there is very little to
show for it. And sometimes, sometimes, when I look at
my child step on or over their belongings
for the bazillionth time I just want to shout.....PICK IT UP!! PICK
IT UP!!!! Because somebody has to pick it up. And I am over it. OVER
IT.
Then there comes the guilt and shame because
really, whose fault is it that they don't know how to pick up their
belongings, clear their place, do their schoolwork, be nice, show
respect, or anything else that I am responsible to teach them. Of
course it is my fault. I am reaping what I have
or have not sown. Right? Yes, so it is my fault. They are a mess
because of me, and then I yell at them for it? Lord have mercy.
So I message a few friends, confess my
moment, and pray. I resolve to ask the children for forgiveness
because yelling is not nice. And move on. Moving on, in this case,
literally meant moving on to the library. Oh it's so clean at the
library. I am pretty sure we need to come here daily, just to be in a
quiet and clean environment. Mostly quiet. Because five children just arrived.
So with all children either looking
for books, or looking at them, I snuggle up on the chair with my
Dianna and settle in to read Mary Poppins aloud for a bit to her. It
is such a wonderful treat to read to the children. I love it more
than ice cream. It feels so indulgent. Sitting. Not multitasking. Not
folding laundry. Not listening to her read while I do dishes. Just
her head on my shoulder, our eyes on the page, my voice in her ears. I
need to do this more. And the story. It's so good! Way better than
Disneys! So clever, and imaginative! I love it. Babies talking to
birds, and the things they said!
And then I came to this page:
All day long Mary Poppins had been in a hurry, and when she was in a hurry she was always cross. Everything Jane did was bad, everything Michael did was worse. She even snapped at the Twins.
Jane and Michael kept out of her way as much as possible, for they knew that there were times when it was better not to be seen or heard by Mary Poppins.
"I wish we were invisible," said Michael, when Mary Poppins had told him that the very sight of him was more than any self-respecting person could be expected to stand.
"We shall be, " said Jane, "if we go behind the sofa. We can count the money in our money-boxes, and she may be better after she's had her supper."
And somehow, I felt better. Even Mary
Poppins, who we all know is practically perfect in every way, had her
moments! Even as I am typing this, I had to stop, and close my eyes,
and just feel God's love for me.
He did that for me. Somehow, that
page was there, in this moment I needed it.
It was all so “Truman
Show.”
And I am undone. Which is actually perfect.
So I kneel at his feet, and like Mary
Magdalene, I break my alabaster box. I pour out all of my
aspirations, all of my plans for the future, everything I think holds
any worth, and I pour it on His feet. His feet. Because that is all my “good
plans” are worth. Cleaning feet. And once I realize that my
good works don't define me, I also realize that my sins do not define me
or for that matter, my children.
Yesterday we had to take a trip to the
doctor. My littlest has trouble breathing occasionally, and this was
one of those occasions. After some medical intervention, he was
feeling much better, almost his normal self by the end of the day.
And I was relieved. But his sister, my Mary, had a heavy heart.
“I gave
him that cough mommy,” she confessed sadly.
“You did???” I asked surprised.
“Did you put it in your hands and give it to him? Like a gift?”
“No,” she laughed.
“Mary,” I explained. “You didn't
give it to him on purpose. You are sick, and sometimes those around
us get sick, but you didn't mean for it to happen. It's not your fault.”
And it all starts coming together. I am
not perfect. Not by a long shot. And yet God still chose me to be the
mom of these kids, wife to this man, and daughter, and sister, and
friend. His grace. It is sufficient. He tells me that and I want to
believe Him. I will not ever be perfect. He knew this. But He chose me. And it brings me to my knees - like Mary Magdalene. She knew. She
got it. Her sins were so many, but she knew she was loved. And His
kindness leads us to repentance. I fall at his feet. And I know, that
although I have this sin condition, and it is contagious, I am
walking with Christ and His righteousness is enough. He is enough. He is enough
for my children, with or without me. He is the author and finisher of
their faith. Not me. So I take my children to the Great Physician. I
read to them the prescriptions for life's healing, His Holy Word. I live a life of
confessing and repenting. And He heals them. He heals us. He heals
them of the germs that I have given them, and some they have picked
up from others. I relinquish control and know now that my job was
never to make them or me perfect. My job is to lead them to the Perfect
One. And that I know I can do.
But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.” Therefore, I will most gladly boast all the more about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may reside in me.
2 Corinthians 12:9
Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, so that you may be healed. The urgent request of a righteous person is very powerful in its effect.
James 5:16