You're Doing Great Mama

Ya know something.....Parenting is hard.

Like, really hard. And NOBODY warns you!! Yes you have older people giving you tons of "advice" but no one tells you the real nitty gritty stuff.

And lets be honest....Nothing anyone tells you before becoming a parent can truly prepare you for what it means to be responsible for raising another human being. You can read the books. Listen to the advice. Make the plans. Tell yourself exactly what kind of mother you're going to be (which by the way is a joke because 85 to 90 % of what you think you're gonna do tends to go out the window).

And then God hands you these tiny humans with completely different personalities, needs, emotions, strengths, struggles, and opinions... And somehow you're supposed to know what you're doing.

Spoiler alert:

 You dont.

I don't.

Honestly outside of the good Lord himself I don’t think anyone does!

At least not all the time. And I have a feeling I'm not the only mama who has gone to bed wondering:

Did I handle that right?

Was I too hard on them?

Was I too easy on them?

Am I teaching them the right things?

Am I giving them enough opportunities?

Am I spending enough time with them?

Do they know how incredibly loved they are?

Parenting has a funny way of making you question yourself even when you're giving it everything you've got. But every once in a while, God gives me a little glimpse.

A tiny moment that makes me think:

Okay, Lord. Maybe we're doing something right.

Sometimes it's something as simple as sitting down for supper. Nobody reminds them. Nobody says, “Okay, who wants to pray?” And then I hear my children saying their blessing on their own. And for just a second, I stop.

Because somewhere between the chaos, the correction, the school mornings, the laundry, the bedtime routines, and the million times I've wondered whether they're actually listening to anything I'm saying... They were listening. Like really listening. The seeds were going in.

“And these words which I command you today shall be in your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children.”
— Deuteronomy 6:6–7

That's the thing about planting seeds. You don't always see what's happening underneath the soil. You teach. You repeat yourself approximately seventeen thousand times.

You pray.

You model.

You correct.

You apologize when you get it wrong.

You keep showing up.

And then one random Tuesday, you hear your child pray without being prompted. And God quietly reminds you:

Keep planting.

Then there are the moments when I hear my children encouraging one another. They tell each other they're the best brother or sister. They build one another up. They show kindness when nobody instructed them to.

Now, let's be clear about some things how bout it?!

These are still siblings.

There are plenty of other moments when I'm fairly certain their spiritual gifts include arguing over absolutely nothing. But then there are those moments. The ones where I hear love coming out of their mouths.

And I realize:

They're learning.

“Therefore encourage one another and build each other up.”
— 1 Thessalonians 5:11

Our children learn so much more from us than the lessons we intentionally sit down to teach.

They watch how we speak to people.

They watch how we handle conflict.

They watch whether we apologize.

They watch how we treat our spouse.

They watch how we respond when we're frustrated.

They watch whether we pray when life gets hard.

They watch whether our faith exists only on Sunday morning or whether Jesus is part of the ordinary rhythm of our home. And that realization is both beautiful and slightly terrifying. Because I know they have seen me get things wrong too. But maybe they don't need to see a perfect mother. Maybe they need to see a mother who keeps turning toward God.

“Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.”
— Proverbs 22:6

Plus, there are moments that stop me completely. Like hit ya right in the guts. Let me paint you a picture.

One day I was buzzing around the kitchen. Doing what moms do. Cleaning. Putting things away. Thinking about what still needed to be done. Probably mentally making tomorrow's list while trying to finish today's. And one of my babies walked into the kitchen and said:

“Excuse me, ma'am, where is my hug?”

Well. Okay then.

Everything stopped.

I gave that baby a hug.

Then for my that same baby came:

“How was your day?”

“What did you do today?” 

And suddenly I wasn't thinking about the kitchen anymore. I was having a conversation with my child. A real conversation. And somewhere in that ordinary little moment, God reminded me of something I desperately needed to remember:

The kitchen can wait.

Them dishes will still be there.

Trust me.

They are extremely loyal.....Like to a fault.

The laundry will wait.

The mess will wait.

The list will wait.

They will all be holding on like a bug to a windshield for dear life. Or a cockroach after an atom bomb.🤣

But these conversations?

These little voices asking about my day?

These arms reaching up for a hug?

They won't be. They won't always be little. They won't always make time for you and ask to be the center of your world. One day they will be taller than you and busy running around doing their own things. Trying hard to figure out their own lives. And then you will find yourself praying for days like these again.

“To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven.”
— Ecclesiastes 3:1

This season is busy.

It's loud.

It's messy.

It's exhausting.

But it is also temporary.

So slow down Mama.

I think sometimes we become so busy taking care of our families that we forget to actually experience them. We're making dinner while thinking about baths. We're doing baths while thinking about lunches. We're packing lunches while thinking about tomorrow. We're living three hours ahead of ourselves all day long. And then we wonder where the years went.

I'm learning to stop.

Not every time.

I'm still me.

There will absolutely be days when I'm flying around the house trying to accomplish fourteen things simultaneously.

But I'm learning to recognize the invitations.

Mom, look at this.

Stop.

Mom, listen.

Listen.

Can I have a hug?

Put it down.

How was your day?

Tell them. Then ask about theirs.

Because maybe that interruption isn't actually an interruption. Maybe that's the important part. Jesus understood the importance of welcoming children even when the adults around Him considered them an interruption.

“Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of God.”
— Mark 10:14

Our children aren't inconveniences standing between us and the things we need to accomplish. They are some of the people God has entrusted to us to love. 

I still wonder.

Heck known me... I probably always will.

I wonder whether I'm teaching them enough.

Whether I'm preparing them enough.

Whether I'm giving them enough.

Whether I'm protecting them enough without protecting them too much.

Whether I'm helping them become the people God created them to be.

And then I have to remind myself:

God didn't ask me to be a perfect mother.

He asked me to faithfully love and steward the children He placed in my care.

“And whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men.”
— Colossians 3:23

There are going to be days when I get it wrong.

I'll lose my patience.

I'll say something the wrong way.

I'll be distracted when I should have been listening.

I'll make a decision and later wonder whether it was the right one.

When that happens, I can apologize.

I can learn.

I can pray.

I can try again tomorrow.

Because maybe good parenting isn't never getting it wrong.

Maybe part of good parenting is letting our children see what we do after we get it wrong.

Humility.

Repentance.

Grace.

Forgiveness.

Growth.

Those are lessons too.

There are the moments when I look around and realize: My children pray. They love one another. They encourage each other. They ask for hugs. They want to tell me about their day. They want to know about mine. They know our home is a place where they can come looking for love. And suddenly that voice telling me I'm failing gets a little quieter.

Am I the best parent who has ever walked the earth? Absolutely not.

Do I have everything figured out? Not even remotely.

But when I look at these little humans God has entrusted to me, I can finally give myself permission to say:

I'm doing a pretty darn good job.

Not because my children are perfect.

Not because I'm perfect.

But because there's love here.

There's faith here.

There's forgiveness here.

There's laughter here.

There's grace here.

And most importantly:

God is here.

“Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain who build it.”
— Psalm 127:1

And Mama remember you can't do things alone. It takes a village.  I certainly didn't build this life by myself.

If you're blessed with a partner who is beside you in the trenches of parenting, thank them. Parenting has a way of requiring every available hand. There are days when one of you has more to give than the other. There are times when one carries more of the physical load while the other carries something unseen. There are tag-team dinners, carpools, bedtime routines, forgotten school things, hard conversations, sick nights, celebrations, discipline, laughter, and approximately one million logistical decisions.

Marriage and parenting require teamwork.

And beyond our partners, God often surrounds us with grandparents, relatives, friends, teachers, church family, neighbors, and people who step in and love our children alongside us. There is no shame in needing your village.

There is blessing in having one.

“Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their labor.”
— Ecclesiastes 4:9

Don't  forget about what the little things really are. I used to think the biggest moments of motherhood would be the milestones.

First steps.

First days of school.

Birthdays.

Graduations.

And those moments absolutely matter.

But I'm beginning to think motherhood is actually built in the spaces between them. It's saying the blessing before supper. It's siblings encouraging each other. It's somebody asking for one more hug. It's conversations in the kitchen. It's laughing over something completely ridiculous. It's riding in the car. It's hearing about their day. It's bedtime prayers. It's “Mama, look!” for the hundredth time. It's stopping long enough to actually look. These moments don't feel monumental while they're happening.

But one day, I think we'll realize:

They were the whole thing.

“This is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.”
— Psalm 118:24

So Mama, breathe.

Give yourself some grace.

Stop expecting yourself to get every single decision right.

Pray over those babies.

Teach them about Jesus.

Love them fiercely.

Apologize when you get it wrong.

Let them see you extend grace and receive it.

Thank the people God has placed beside you.

And every once in a while, when you're rushing around trying to keep everything together and a little voice asks for your attention...

Stop.

Give the hug.

Have the conversation.

Listen to the story.

Laugh at the joke you've already heard six times.

The kitchen can wait.

Because one day, the kitchen may finally be clean.

The laundry may finally be caught up.

The house may finally be quiet.

And you may find yourself wishing you could hear one little voice interrupt the silence with:

“Excuse me, ma'am, where is my hug?”

So enjoy the mess.

Enjoy the noise.

Enjoy the ordinary.

You're not going to do every part of this perfectly.

None of us will.

But when your children know they are loved, when they know they can come to you, and when they're learning to turn toward God...

Take a deep breath, Mama.

You're doing a pretty darn good job.

“Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord.”
— Psalm 127:3