Becoming a mother has taught me more spiritual lessons than any other single area of my life. Women become mothers thinking that we will love and nurture our children, raise them and teach them everything we learn, tend to them like a garden so they can thrive and flourish, and praying God would use us to teach them about who He is.
I didn’t anticipate the reciprocity of it all: that God would use my children just as much--if not more--to teach me about who He is.
I could tell so many stories and the lessons God continues to teach me. I could write about enduring love. I could write about sacrifice. I could write about discipline that is rooted in unending, unbreakable love that wants so much for my children. I could write about middle-of-the-night prayers, or feeling like a child myself crying exhausted tears while finishing up the last of the dishes of the day, hoping that maybe tonight I’ll get more than a few small hours of unbroken sleep. I could write about the joy I have in the individuality of my children, and the pain I feel when they hurt one another.
But I’ll share a moment that happened just yesterday.
In order to understand the weight of this moment, you first have to understand that my five-year-old son, Chase, lives up to his name and does not stop moving. I’m pretty sure he siphons off some of my energy to live at double the speed of most humans. He flits from “Mom, can I have…,” to “Mom, can I do…,” to “Mom, can I…” from sunup to sundown.
So yesterday, after hours of his normal rhythm of asks and requests, Chase asked once again,
“Mom?” I sighed a little.
A little exasperated, I waited for some question about screen time, art supplies, when is so-and-so coming over to play, or a snack.
Instead, there was a slight pause and Chase simply said,
“I love you. Thank you for loving me and taking care of me.”
That jerked my busy little world to a halt.
I went to where he was, got down before him, and gave him a hug. I told him I loved him, too, and that it is my greatest joy and honor to be his mother. And you better believe I drank that moment in for all it was worth. I could have stayed there as long as Chase would have let me, but after savoring it as long as I could, Chase bounded off to find the construction paper and glitter for his next project.
I couldn’t help but think about how it must warm God’s heart when, as his daughter, I pause and just tell him, “I love you. Thank you for loving me and taking care of me.” I can so easily move from ask to ask to ask, and God will love me even more than I love my boys in their busyness and fuss, but there is a profound pause, a connecting moment, when I pause long enough to simply tell my maker, “I love you. Thank you.”
--by Haley Bodine
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