When we were in church for less than five minutes and she starts fighting me, because she doesn't want to sit still. I thought it then. She wants to get down. She wants to run. She wants to tell every person there, "Hi!" I told her she had to stay there. She could sit between me and her sister, or she could sit on my lap, but she could not get down. "NO!" "Lord, I'm not cut out for this." From there, everything goes down hill. Fast. She not only doesn't want to sit still, she isn't going to sit still. I decide I have to take her to the back of the church. But I'm the only parent there and I have two kids. I have to take both of them to the back of the church. One is happy that she's getting to move...finally. The other is freaking out because she wants to sit still. She wants to be in church. "I'm failing again. I'm messing this up. Again." We went home. Ten minutes into the service and we went home. Loud tear-filled protests from the back seat, quiet defeated tears in the front. "Lord, I can't even control my kids for ten minutes. I'm trying to trust that I'm the right parent for these kids, but I don't feel it. Not right now."
When that beautiful round face with those round brown eyes looks at me and says, "You're a bad mom," or "You're so mean," I think it then. Not so much when she says, "That means you don't love me anymore." That one's so ridiculous it can't be true. Ever. But the first two, those cut deep. Those are my biggest fears. The very things I hear in my mind at the worst moments. When those thoughts are voiced by the angry voice of my three year old, it's too much. "Lord, what am I doing wrong? I don't think I'm ever going to get this."
Then there are times when it seems like things might be okay. I may not screw them up completely. When I was in bed all day with a stomach bug and that three year old brought me two get well pictures. "Here, Momma. I'm gonna put this under your pillow." "Lord, I love that sweet girl" When the chubby hands of a two year old sandwich my face and in her best growly voice she says, "My yuv you more!" "Not possible."
This mom stuff. It's hard. It's hard and messy and beautiful. It's revealing my worst flaws and my biggest strengths. It tears my heart open in one breath and in the next it's healing it and giving it new life. In those worst moments when I doubt myself the most and my heart cries out, "Lord, why did you entrust these amazing beings to me? You know I'm probably just going to mess them up, right? You get that, don't you?" I am so grateful when I feel Him whisper back, " I get it. Alone you probably would mess them up. But you aren't alone. I'm here. I wouldn't have lent you my children and then left you to do it on your own. Lean on me. Parent with me."
I so often forget that they were His first. I fight for them (or with them) everyday, and think of them only as mine and Adam's. But they were His first, and they are His now, and when it's all said and done, they will go home to Him. I'll do my best while I'm here with them. I'll keep my heart open to His whispers and when it gets to be too much, I'm gonna turn to Him and say, "All right, it's your turn. Momma needs some me time!"
P.S. I know the dad stuff is hard also, but I don't have any of those experiences to draw from. ;)
This is such a great post. I know I've told you before but you are a really, really great writer! This is so beautifully written. It is so easy to doubt ourselves as mothers. You definitely aren't alone in that nor does it make you any lesser of a mother. In fact, I think it probably makes you greater. It means you are concerned about how you are doing things and how what you are doing is affecting your children. You are conscientious and mindful because you care so much. However, beware against those thoughts telling you that you aren't a good mom/ that you aren't doing a good job/ that you're messing them up. I firmly believe that those are whispers from the devil. He desperately wants you to believe those lies. They just aren't true. You know that though... you are leaning on Him as you should be and that's the best possible thing you could be doing. I love that last paragraph where you say they were His first, they're His now, and they'll go Home to him one day. Wow. That's the stuff right there. So true and such a poignant thought. This is me patting you on the back to say you're doing a great job, mama! Keep on keepin' on! :)
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