I was mad at my husband when he came home from work today. Why? Because they’re his kids, too, so, he’s partly to blame!
But that’s irrational, Barbara.
But I’m still mad!
So you better go do the dishes before he notices something. Because you’ll have a hard time explaining that one.
(Bang! Clang! Crash!)
“You okay in there, honey?”
“I’m fine!!! I’m great!!! Want a drink?! Let me make you a drink! I’m having a drink! Don’t come in here until I have a drink!!!”
Because we’ve all had those days. Unfortunately, this one, for me, was one in which I had set out to really find my rest in wholeheartedness.
But what, exactly, does wholehearted mothering look like? Does it look like wrestling on the floor, reading books, asking my children about their hearts, or maybe taking a walk to the park and playing pirates on the play structure?
Check, check, check, and check.
And you know what? There was still whining. There were still temper tantrums. There were still three siblings trying to fit into the one best square foot of carpet in the whole entire apartment.
And you know what else? At no point did any of my children turn to me in a moment of great peace and clarity and say, “Mom, I think I’m good now. I’m gonna go get some me-time now, okay?”
Because there is never enough Mommy and the more you give them, the more they expect.
A wise woman once shook her head and said to me, “Barbara, you are not enough, you will never be enough. From the moment they are born you are pointing them to the cross.”
So, maybe when my kids get a little Mommy explosion in their direction tomorrow it will sound like, “YOU ALL NEED JESUS!”
And, tonight, I will be most thankful for the little daily practice of resurrection we call bedtime.
(Whoop whoop!!! Can I get an “AMEN!”?)
I know you, like me, have exclaimed at one point or another when you’ve seen the figures, “I’ve wasted how much of my life at red lights? I’ve wasted how much time sleeping? Wouldn’t it be great if we only had to sleep for, like, three hours? How much more time we’d have!” Shut up, childless-me-of-the-past! You will understand one day, when you are a mother. You will kiss the sweet clock and realize that bedtime saves lives.
So, go to sleep, my babies. Go to sleep, Barbara. Everybody just die for the day. Let this day be dead, already, for the LOVE OF ALL THAT’S HOLY!!!
(Deep breath in through the nose and out through the mouth.)
And in the morning, with fresh life, we’ll do our best to live out the beautiful picture of resurrection in another day.