I tend to be pretty hard on myself. I can find all kinds of things wrong with me. . . my weight, my height, my housekeeping, my ability (or inability) to do it all, my patience level--it goes on and on. Recently I am understanding what a profound effect that has had on my children. No, I'm not doing it again. . . I'm just seeing clearly that I have fed too much into the world's view of things. . . what I should be, who I should be, how I should look, what is acceptable. Seeing myself through my children's eyes has been really good for me. It's also broken my heart.
My children don't care if I am overweight. I am just the right height; they can't imagine me any different. They appreciate how handy it is that I can reach anything they can't. They have recently been encouraging me, though sometimes it stings, about how much I have changed over the recent year or two and how much they like it. The enemy runs away with my brain at that point and makes me wonder what kind of horrible person I must have been. . . then I am reminded that it's not that at all. God has been faithful to work in me, to soften me, to mold me, and I am better for it. It doesn't mean I was once an ogre, it just means that I am growing. That is a blessing.
I am understanding that it wounds them when I put myself down or criticize myself. . . they don't want their mama to hurt, and when I hurt myself, well. . . I am trying to do better. I'm trying to see myself as Christ sees me, which is really the only thing that truly matters. As I grow in wisdom, I will continue to change, to grow.
It has been so very encouraging to me to see how God has worked in my children--through me and, sometimes, in spite of me. Many days I am frustrated about how things are going here on the home front. Some days I feel that I teach and I teach and yet no one learns. That I really must be failing as a mother when I have to say the same thing over and over and over and over and over and. . .
And then something wonderful happens. I have a child come home from a friend's house and say "It was fun but their house isn't joyful like ours." That melts my heart. It brings me to tears and humbles me. I ask the Lord's forgiveness for my lack of faith. Another day, my child in the emergency room who has just had stitches and has sobbed much has the presence of mind to thank the doctor for helping her. She turns to thank her mama for insisting that she have the stitches--she can see now that it was best. Again, I am teary and thank Jesus for His unending faithfulness and for growing the seeds that I strive daily to plant.
I am in that very rewarding season where I can see the harvest ripening. I can see fruit in my children that for years I thought was dead on the vine. God proves himself faithful day after day after day. That's something in which I can rest. That's a shelter where I can take cover on the tough days.
Some of you know what I am talking about--you are in this season or beyond me by far. Some of you are young mamas with little ones all around your feet. . . wondering how you will ever make it. Crying along with them when they are all crying and you just can't listen anymore. Giving and giving and giving when you have nothing at all to give. Take heart, my Sisters. Your Heavenly Father is watching. He is walking before and behind and beside you. He is responsible for the harvest--you are not. Keep planting the seeds in their tiny hearts and wait. WAIT. Quietly, prayerfully. He is faithful. Reach out to an older Sister and cry for help, for prayer, for encouragement. That's what the Body is all about. . .
No comments:
Post a Comment