As a mom, I know that nothing is really mine. I may have a false sense of ownership – I may even tell my kids that they should thank their lucky stars that I let them live here, in MY house…but we all know the truth: I am just a tenant.
Say, for example, I want to brush my hair. I may as well traipse off to the girls room first where I will find my hairbrush…waiting…in the girls’ vanity drawer. Want to read at night? The handy book light is right where I keep it – on Mason’s desk. Lips feelin’a little dry and chafed? The solution is always candy cane scented chapstick. Of course, I will have to wipe off Ethan’s spit first, and try and even out the teeth marks, but…
And no matter how much I try to press the issue, things don’t really change. One morning, I reached for my hairbrush and couldn’t find it.
“Caroline!” I bellowed.
“Yes, Mom,” she answered.
“Caroline, I need to explain to you about a little thing I like to call personal possession. Basically, it’s when something belongs to someone else. Like…my hairbrush, for example. You have a perfectly good brush in your drawer, don’t know why you have to get mine, make me have to go searching, already have a million things to do in the morning, how would you feel if I took your stuff without asking, treat others as you would have them treat you, how would you…”
“MOM!!” Caroline interrupted.
“See, there you go, Caroline, in this house when mom is speaking we are respectful and don’t interrupt the homily…”
“But Mom, your brush is in your hand…”
Now, maybe this isn’t the blog entry that’s going to make me look stellar or anything (but I figure by now, if you’ve been reading this blog, you already appreciate this nugget of truth anyway!). But reflecting on instances like this make me see how much I make big deals out of such small stuff. You know, small things like caps back on toothpaste tubes, not wiping your toothpast-y mouth on your sisters bath towel, swishing the cereal bowl with water before setting it in the sink for it to harden into whole-grain glue before I get around to washing it, laying your coat on the floor next to the coat hooks. These things (and oh, so many more like them) are the crayons in my dryer. They are opportunities to trust that God is good, that he knows I’m here, and that he is committed to making me more like him. Plus, I know that in a few years I will think back to the teethmarks in my chapstick with fondness and nostalgia.
Sadly, Scripture is silent on teethmarks in the chapstick. But I do know they are for my good and HIS glory.
Bless ya!
Say, for example, I want to brush my hair. I may as well traipse off to the girls room first where I will find my hairbrush…waiting…in the girls’ vanity drawer. Want to read at night? The handy book light is right where I keep it – on Mason’s desk. Lips feelin’a little dry and chafed? The solution is always candy cane scented chapstick. Of course, I will have to wipe off Ethan’s spit first, and try and even out the teeth marks, but…
And no matter how much I try to press the issue, things don’t really change. One morning, I reached for my hairbrush and couldn’t find it.
“Caroline!” I bellowed.
“Yes, Mom,” she answered.
“Caroline, I need to explain to you about a little thing I like to call personal possession. Basically, it’s when something belongs to someone else. Like…my hairbrush, for example. You have a perfectly good brush in your drawer, don’t know why you have to get mine, make me have to go searching, already have a million things to do in the morning, how would you feel if I took your stuff without asking, treat others as you would have them treat you, how would you…”
“MOM!!” Caroline interrupted.
“See, there you go, Caroline, in this house when mom is speaking we are respectful and don’t interrupt the homily…”
“But Mom, your brush is in your hand…”
Now, maybe this isn’t the blog entry that’s going to make me look stellar or anything (but I figure by now, if you’ve been reading this blog, you already appreciate this nugget of truth anyway!). But reflecting on instances like this make me see how much I make big deals out of such small stuff. You know, small things like caps back on toothpaste tubes, not wiping your toothpast-y mouth on your sisters bath towel, swishing the cereal bowl with water before setting it in the sink for it to harden into whole-grain glue before I get around to washing it, laying your coat on the floor next to the coat hooks. These things (and oh, so many more like them) are the crayons in my dryer. They are opportunities to trust that God is good, that he knows I’m here, and that he is committed to making me more like him. Plus, I know that in a few years I will think back to the teethmarks in my chapstick with fondness and nostalgia.
Sadly, Scripture is silent on teethmarks in the chapstick. But I do know they are for my good and HIS glory.
Bless ya!
1 comment:
I love how you posted this twice...as if I need to be reminded of how desperately I need Jesus along this path of motherhood! HA!
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