I had to take a shower as soon as I put the boys down for their naps. I mean, I did work out earlier, but more importantly, I wanted to wash away any remnants of the morning. Can a shower do that? I was weary from the battles I faced with my toddler, and I was weary from the battles I fight within my own self on mornings like these.
I am so quick, so quick, to believe the best for other parents. I don't know your life, and I'm certainly not going to make snap judgements off of a 30 second encounter I witness. When people tell stories about poor behavior they witness, in my head I'm pleading, "But you don't know what their day looked like. You can't see the whole story!"
But it's a different story for myself.
Nolan has been wearing.me.down. The consequences have varied. The pep-talks a plenty. The reminders constant. These last few days have been tough. And it seems like nothing is sticking. Nothing.
And it's days like today when motherhood doesn't feel sanctifying, it feels exhausting. It feels horribly discouraging and lonely. Like I want to look to the right and to the left to see if anyone else is failing alongside of me, but I choose to just run my race. I resist the urge to play the comparison game and instead choose to lift my eyes up.
As I stood in the shower letting the water wash over me, I replayed my view of our morning in my head over and over. How I lost my patience and spoke too harshly. How I was a far cry from slow to anger. How I let offenses build on one another instead of truly forgiving with each repentance my 2 year old offered (genuine or not). It looked ugly from my point of view. It looked like a mom operating out of her own strength and her own flesh. And the heaviness of my failures was a bit much for me.
So, I just asked, "Jesus, can you show me where you were all morning? Like, really show me where you were in these scenarios!"
And you know what came to mind? A whole different set of happenings this morning. When I hit my elbow on the chair and grabbed it out of pain, Nolan immediately prayed, "God, come be with Mommy. Help her owie. Help her comfort. Amen." And Nolan hugging my neck and saying he loved me randomly after helping him go potty. And so different scenes replayed in my head.
I can see Jesus in the both sets of circumstances. And I have to fight the urge to believe He's only happy with me in one set of them. That He's not disappointed with my effort.
I've heard many, many times that I cannot let my children's behavior, good or bad, define me as a mom. I love this quote from a book (Hope Unfolding by Becky Thompson) I just read, "But the truth is, when we look to our kids to find security in our parenting, we will only be left feeling disappointed. Not because they are a disappointment, but because their need for a perfect Savior does not indicate our failure as mothers. It simply means that they need Jesus just as much as we do." And so what I hope to do in the midst of these tough mornings is give my kids what they need most, which is Jesus.
Because it's what I need too.
This mom life is no joke.
And as I have the luxury of getting a "reset" at nap time (and I do know it's a luxury!), I choose to trade in this guilt for forgiveness. I choose to lean into Grace instead of sinking into defeat. I choose to offer up a heart of repentance and receive newness. Right now.
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