By Tessa Kirby 
You can feel when it begins to happen; slowly, strategically, uncontrollably; the unravelling of your patience. It’s almost painful -but let’s be honest – it’s always painful. You’ve been trying so hard to keep it together and for the most part, you’ve done a darn good job for the day you’ve had. You intentionally leave the room to gather your thoughts, you take your one millionth deep breath of the day, and you say a quick prayer. You promised yourself to be more intentional today. You’re not going to be that mom – you know, that mom that yells and screams at the top of her lungs to silence the mayhem. But there you are, in the middle of your inner vow you catch yourself breathing out the very words, in the very tone you told yourself you wouldn’t.
Guilt grips your every nerve ending and you can’t help but grow even more angry. Your anger turns to wrath, and your wrath is blasted at those tiny human beings that have no idea what is going on at the very core of their momma’s heart. You see the fear in their eyes and the pain you so shamefully caused them. What do you do? You’ve just messed up – like royally messed up. How do you clean up YOUR mess?
Motherhood, although the oldest “profession” in the book, continues to be the most alluding, confusing, taxing, and frustrating role one will ever play. It wakes your spirit in the most fascinating ways but just as quickly can bring out the worst in you. The responsibility of growing, raising, and teaching human beings is the most important role you will ever have. You are raising up the next generation of leaders, teachers, protectors, fighters and it is YOU they will look to when they fall, get pushed down, or bullied; and it is you that is responsible for picking them back up and speaking life into them. How in the heck,= does one learn how to do THAT in school?
For a moment in this life, we women (and men) get a glimpse of what it feels like to have the weight of the world on our shoulders. At least that’s what it feels like right? And we have the power to let that pressure strengthen us or crush us. It’s what we choose to do in that moment – when life overcomes us – will we let it define us or teach us?
So there I was, standing before my 3-year-old daughter and my 1-year-old son and as soon as I saw the pain inflicted on their tiny, innocent bodies, fear gripped me in the most wretched way. I had a few options: I could walk away and listen to them cry while I let them “learn their lesson,” I could let pride tell me that I’m not in the wrong and yell some more, or I could fall on my knees in submission to my failure as a mom to them in that moment, draw them in, and whisper soft apologies over them.
Sometimes it’s easier to walk away, and sometimes it’s even easier to yell but with ever fiber of my being I will ALWAYS try to choose to fall on my knees. For Christ died to Himself every. single. day. He chose to constantly fall on His knees in surrender to what His Papa God wanted. Choosing to be Jesus to our children is probably the hardest task we will undertake, because it’s not the easy route – in fact, it’s the least traveled one. But when the tables are turned and you watch as your child drops to their knees in surrender, professing their wrong-doings, and asking for forgiveness – you know that you chose right.
So go forth precious, warrior momma’s and fight with everything that you have to choose Jesus; I promise, it is well worth the effort.
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