My Heart...

I came across this article on FB the other day. It made me cry, thinking about how much I love my children and how quickly they are growing up. I struggle with constant "mommy guilt," feeling like I am failing my children in some way all the time. There is only so much of me to give. I get frustrated. Tired. Busy. I yell at them. Speak with a harsh tone. I spend time doing things other than playing with them. There's only 1 of me and 3 of them. They see me have a bad attitude. Do they see Christ in me? Somedays, do they see Him at all? Oh, Lord help me! As the story says below, I pray they will not lack anything because of my faults and insecurities.

As I read this article, it was just a good reminder that no, I am not a perfect mother...that doesn't even exist..but, when my kids are grown, my greatest wish when they think about me, is that they will know how much I love them! I know that time is fleeting...every time I tuck them in bed at night and kiss their sweet little cheeks, another day is gone that I won't get back...so here is my prayer tonight...

Lord, help me make the most of each day. Help me remember to take a deep breath and slow down just a little. Sometimes a lot. Open my eyes to the most important things in life and let me lay down the rest. Lord, forgive me for the times that I don't exemplify you to them. One of my greatest fears is that I would be a stumbling block in the way of them knowing You. I'm sorry for my complacency. My lukewarmness. Change my heart, Lord...renew a steadfast spirit within me...give me a renewed passion for You and Your Word.

"But I wanted you to hold my hand!" she said through streaming tears, close to hysterics.

I had walked down the stairs from our living room to our dining room one morning after waking her up. I can't remember a morning that she didn't insist on walking down each step herself, even though my hand was always offered.

Yet, today, in my haste to start the day by opening the window shade and getting our breakfasts ready, I did not offer it. And today, she wanted my hand.

In a very uncharacteristic gesture by my almost 3 year old, she climbed into my arms. Her face wet with tears. Her voice unable to catch its breath from the emotion of it all. And in a very uncharacteristic gesture by my almost 3 year old, she let me hold her, comfort her.

For what seemed like a blissful eternity, I rocked my little girl back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Her small koala body clung to mine, legs around my torso, arms around my neck. I stroked her fine hair and held her close.

What she doesn't know is that I'd hold her every day just like this. She could ask me anytime, anywhere, and I would drop whatever I was doing to take her up into my arms and feel her warm little heart beating next to mine.

What she doesn't know is that I live for her laugh, her smile. The tinkle of her happy voice in my ears is enough to bring blue skies to a cloudy day. When the corners of her mouth turn up with joy, my heart skitters into a thousand butterflies fluttering though a green meadow. I want to take away anything that makes her sad. I never want her to know pain, if it takes away that smile.

What she doesn't know is that after an atrocious day full of tantrums and harsh words, when I count down the minutes until bedtime, I miss her when she's asleep. If I knew it wouldn't wake her (and it undoubtedly would), I would crawl into her room just to peek at her sleeping. For a child so full of energy and life and passion during the day, she is surprisingly relaxed and at peace when she dreams. And though I may not be fully prepared for what the next day will bring, I am secretly excited for morning so we can meet again.

What she doesn't know is that I hate myself for the ways I fail her. The impatient clucking, the loud snap of my voice, the wrong choice of cleaning my kitchen when I could have been reading her a book. I pray she will not lack anything because of my faults and insecurities. And I hope one day she will see all the ways I worked on myself just to be better for her.

What she doesn't know, what she couldn't possibly know, is how deep my love runs for her. It courses through my veins. There is nothing I would not do, no thing I would not give up, for her. I know now, in a way I could not have known before I knew her, that love like this cannot dry up like a dusty river bed. It can only grow stronger, a raging river, with an endless source. It would be impossible to not love her.

What she doesn't know is that as time goes by, she will grow up. Dolls and blocks will be traded for cars and make up. I will spend the years grasping for her as she runs ahead, finding the delicate balance between holding on without holding her back. I know she will grow up. And she will be beautiful and confidant and wonderful. And I will miss her littleness.

One day I will look back and wonder why I thought it was so hard, oh so long ago, to raise this child. And I will vow to myself that if I had the chance, I would do it all over again. Every minute.

So today, I hold this little babe, rocking her back and forth, back and forth. I do not take for granted this moment of prolonged comfort: I snuggle her into my neck, breathe in her scent, and lock the memory of her deep in my heart.

Because what she doesn't know is that, no matter how many years go by, no matter how old she grows, she will always be my precious little girl.