I’m trying to be one.
Intentional about instilling the right things. Reading, studying, praying about every little thing I do. Because the influence is enormous. And it’s not seen – the things we mothers do in the background. At home when no one is watching.
Not just the “things” or the “doing.”
The changing. Of our hearts. The molding.
I think it’s just me trying to mold them with all my notes on discipline scribbled on scrap paper. But it’s God….molding me.
And I can see my sharp corners softening. Being more of yes Mom. And they aren’t yet 3. So I have a long road. But I want every bit of it. Every pothole and crevice on the asphalt. To dig into this season and plant something worth harvesting. Because I’m their only Mom. And it’s about eternity.
It’s hard. This Mom gig. The rewards are far more internal than external here. It’s a hope really. Of who they can be and will choose to be because of every single time we picked up the Cheerios or filled their sippy cup to serve them.
To teach them to serve is to show them.
But it’s hard. There’s no applause from the washing machine or the rags we’ve rubbed right down. The grind doesn’t seem to fit our own young ambitions to change the world.
I’ve fought this season.
I’ve been trying. Learning. Since they were born. To joy in giving all of myself for all of them.
I’m selfish. So selfish.
And then I battle the balance of life. Time for me vs. my marriage vs. the kids vs. the church vs. God. Not in that order. Those things shouldn’t compete. But let’s be honest. Sometimes they just seem to. Wait. They just do.
But the joy – internal joy- is increasing in the season as I press in. Press in to intentionally mother the babes He gave me. Learning from those who have walked this way in the Scriptures.
Because there is hope there, for change.
And the first to change is my attitude. Always. My attitude lays the ground for my words and their response to discipline. And then….my expectations.
I’m expecting good things from them and for them….while knowing they are just little people who need grace as much as me. They will stop sinning when I do.
Something will spill today. The carpet is just plain gone – so no more worries there. Things will break…but I care more about the heart. About my words and how my eyes tell them I care.
And just as I begin to see we are shaping them, I get a glimpse – so small – of how God is shaping me. How teaching them grace is affecting me. Spilling onto me too.
How I’m a toddler too – tantrums and battles and wanting my own way. And He has been wanting to coach me. Into His arms. Into His bride.
And even I fight the hand that feeds me. We all need grace.
And the only way I can even long to be intentional with the little ones is because of that life inside me. He was intentional with me. He sought me out. And created in me a hunger for more. Eternity more.
I watch my kids push back. They want their own way. Don’t we all. I see myself in them – pushing God back as He waits for me.
So here I am. Trying. Trying to wait on Him to change their hearts. Only He can. But I’ll be intentional about passing on the best thing I’ve ever received: Him.