Today was one of those days. The kind that felt an awful lot like being on a see-saw.
One moment, the children were dripping sweetness like a ripe, juicy peach. They said “please” and “thanks”, shared their toys happily, and sweet echoes of “Yes ma’am” echoed around the room when I asked them to do something. I felt like giving myself a pat on the back for how well we were doing on this parenting adventure.
The next moment, loud shrieks of “MAMA! Guess what _________ did!” and “Stop it right NOW!” jarred my proud thoughts and brought me back to reality with a screech.
Grace in my imperfect reality
- The reality that I’m a sinful mother who needs grace every moment of every day.
- The reality that, even at their most perfect, my children are sinful creatures who need grace every moment of every day too.
- The reality that all my best methods and well-thought out plans are naught if the Lord doesn’t build our house.
- The reality that even though I love this season of life (most of the time), it’s a picture of imperfection.
- The reality that God’s mercies are not just new for me every morning, they’re new for my children.
- The reality that few things drive you to your knees like parenting.
- The reality that the seeds I plant now may not bear fruit for years or decades, for good or ill.
- The reality that I can’t be a joyful mother of children unless my joy is rooted in Something deeper than happy children and a semblance of order.
And so I lift my eyes from my not-at-all perfect self and not-at-all perfect children, and rejoice in the reality that Jesus came to redeem messy families like mine and use them to build His church.