Happy Mom

I LOVE MY KIDS!

I know. If you are a regular reader you are saying "Duh! That's almost all you talk about!" But I am discovering, or rediscovering a love for them that goes beyond the cute stories and the excitement of watching them grow and do wonderful things. I don't know that that could rightly be called Love in the first place as it is focused on my own pride and self-gratification through my children.

I'm talking about love that gives up (extremely) precious minutes of sleep at 2:30 am to comfort a little girl terrified of the train whistling across town.

Love that daily confesses her sin of anger or grumbling to her kids and asks them to forgive her.

Love that sets her book down 15 times in just two pages to listen--really listen--to the endless, rambling, nonsensical and crucially important thoughts of a 5 year old.

Love that cleans up the clutter that grows faster than dandelions on a Minnesota lawn--and does it with a song on her lips.

Love that reads the facial expression on her friend that says, "Your daughter is begging for a spanking!" but instead offers a gentle, private reprimand because she knows her daughter’s defiant response just now really sprang from a late bedtime the night before combined with a lack of maturity and self-control—not (this time) from a rebellious defiant heart.

Love that purposes to enjoy her daily tasks and responsibilities—not because cooking and cleaning and teaching are such a jolly good time, but because she really is thankful for the opportunity to share in her children’s lives, and because she doesn’t want them to ever feel as though they are a burden that is keeping her from something else she’d rather be doing.

Love that smiles and holds her tongue as a child persistently scrapes crumbs off the table into her hand with a fork, then shows her how to vacuum up the ones that didn't quite make it.

Love that finds ways to motivate her active children to sit quietly for 15 minutes a day—reading their Bibles because it is better for them than air and water.

Love that puts soft soap on her own tongue in front of her kids because she said a naughty word in front of them.

Love that expends the energy to solve yet another "I had it first!" argument by encouraging one or both of them to lovingly think of the other as better than herself and willingly give up the disputed object.

Love that notices the irritated looks of other people in the restaurant at the volume of her children, gently whispers to them to tone down, and refuses to roll her eyes or act in any way embarrassed or unnecessarily harsh toward her children just to prove to people that she’s "in control."

Love that notices not only every time a child disobeys, but takes special notice of their obedience--and affirms them for it.

Love that turns off the TV and helps her children to find something creative and interesting to do with their time.

Love that finds or makes ways for her children join her in serving others sacrificially—when it is hard, or unpleasant and there is something much more fun we’d rather be doing.

Love that sees a daughter who is having a terrible time controlling her body and emotions, gently and firmly removes her to a private place, and takes the time to pray with and teach her how to calm herself when she feels out of control--instead of just yelling at her to "Chill out!" or "Quit it--NOW."

Love that turns from unfinished dinner preparations to snuggle and tickle the tummy of a girl whose "love language" is physical touch.

Love that lets her daughter sit on precious kitchen counter space and "help" for hours a day because she loves to be with Mama.

Love that makes no apology for dirty bathroom and kitchen floor when company comes for dinner because she used excessive amounts of time during the day to talk and pray with her girls about attitudes and how to make guests feel welocme in our home--no matter what.

Love that sees the critical looks and hears the "unspoken" expectations of others regarding "a good mother" and vows never to burden her children with the pressure of trying to behave just right—just so others will think she’s a good mom.

This is the kind of love I am talking about. It is not a formula or a procedure. It is born of God—hour by hour, (or minute by minute) through the work of the Holy Spirit in my life. By the graciousness of God, it sets me free from the heavy and darkly oppressive rules, formulas, expectations and fears that sometimes hang very low over my head. It is courageous, and terrifying, potent and gutsy, and I am so thankful to God for leading me along this road—trod by so many others and paved by Jesus Christ himself. May God grant me and you the courage and faith to persevere and not faint as we walk this road with our children each day.