I struggle. A lot, it seems (especially when I forget not to compare myself to how productive those around me seem to be). The wounds from my past seem to crop up and haunt me without my recognizing them. I’ve realized lately that although God has healed so much in me, there is still so much that is broken. How wonderful is He, that He only works to heal as much as I can handle at a time. I feel so amazingly blessed to be loved by a God that knows me so well and cares about me no matter what.
This life of being a mom, especially one who stays home, can become mundane if we let it. It’s work to find the joy in the everyday. A friend of mine posted the following excerpt on our community forum:
From the chapter “Monasticism and the Playpen,” excerpt from _The Shattered Lantern_ by Ron Rohlheiser
“The mother who stays at home with small children experiences a very real withdrawal from the world. Her existence is certainly monastic. Her tasks and preoccupations remove her from the centers of social life and from the centers of important power. She feels removed.
Moreover, her constant contact with young children, the mildest of the mild, gives her a privileged opportunity to be in harmony with the mild and learn empathy and unselfishness. Perhaps more so even than the monk or minister of the Gospel, she is forced, almost against her will, to mature. For years, while she is raising small children, her time is not her own, her own needs have to be put into second place, and every time she turns round some hand is reaching out demanding something. Years of this will mature most anyone.
It is because of this that she does not need, during this time, to pray for an hour a day. And it is precisely because of this that the rest of us, who do not have constant contact with young children, need to pray privately daily.
We, to a large extent, do not have to withdraw. We can often put our own needs first. We can claim some of our own time. We do not work with what is mild. Our worlds are professional, adult, cold and untender. Outside of prayer we run a tremendous risk of becoming selfish and bringing ourselves into harmony with what’s untender.
Monks and contemplative nuns withdraw from the world to try to become less selfish, more tender, and more in harmony with the mild. To achieve this they pray for long hours in solitude.
Mothers with young children are offered the identical privilege: withdrawal, solitude, the mild. But they do not need the long hours of private prayer–the demands and mildness of the very young are a functional substitute.”
and at first I thought, “I must be doing it wrong.” But then, as I though about it I realized that not only is it true, but that knowing this, reading this helps me realize what a blessing this life I have chosen, been given, is. I mean, you’ve heard a million times “children will do what you DO, not what you say” so what better way is there to teach these amazing little people (for that is who we are raising, people) selflessness, patience, kindness than to DO it for them? Do I fail? Daily. Hourly. Sometimes every minute. But then when I see the big boy scoop up the smallest girl and nuzzle her, help her, give something up for her… I realize that in my failure God has succeeded.
Struggling through my day gives me a multitude of opportunities to pray, to lean on God, to let Him help me through. And isn’t that what He wants? For us to fully depend on Him? For without HIS strength, I can do nothing. And in those prayers, He shows me my ingratitude. Not in a punitive manner, but in His sweet, loving, MERCIFUL way. That laundry? That MOUNTAIN of clothing means that my children do not go naked. Those dishes piled up and overflowing onto the kitchen counters mean we have food. Every “mundane chore, nuisance” is an opportunity for me to give thanks.
I’d heard this idea before and maybe pondered it a bit but still got bogged down in the “I’m tired of doing the same thing day after day” until I started reading Ann Voskamp‘s One Thousand Gifts and I’m only on chapter 2 and it’s changing my life. But not just my life, the lives of my children. Two chapters and I can see things differently and show my children a better way to live. A way to really live and to really experience God’s grace and love. For what better way do we learn a thing than by doing it over and over and over again? It doesn’t have to be a burden.
Join me in taking the dare, I’m jumping in late as I just discovered it but who cares – start today, right where you are!
Scroll to the bottom of this post and print the Feb List. I laminated mine and put it on the refrigerator.
I only listed 50 gifts last year – this year I’m taking the dare to list 1,000… more!
1. the sound of their laughter
2. sweet kisses from the littlest
3. R2′s joy in playing, finally, with the girls in the neighborhood
4. a refreshing walk down the hill and back up, holding hands with my girls
5. sweet sisters building a fort with lawn chairs
6. sweet sound of R3 singing worship songs
7. ketchup. in a bowl. on faces, hands and shirts – mixed with ranch.
8. my coffee pot the loving Mr. Fox bought me even though I said I only needed a cheap one
9. blood droplets on skinned knees – means we have the ability to feel and the opportunity to show love
and my kids are making a list, too!
