They crave loud, action, noise, and motion.
I crave quiet, stillness, calm, and gentleness.
I don’t feel like I’m the right one for this role.
And yet . . . God said it’s supposed to be me.
They say children benefit from structure, consistency, and routine.
I’m random, free-spirited, and do things off-the-cuff.
I’m not at all certain I’m the best thing for them.
And yet . . . God said it’s supposed to be me.
They want to engage me in sports, physicality, and imaginary play.
I want to engage them in reading, drawing, and writing.
I don’t like to play their way.
They don’t like to play mine.
I’m not sure we are compatible, really.
And yet . . . God said it’s supposed to be me.
They want me to see, hear, feel, taste, and smell everything that has to do with them (I’m convinced far more frequently than the average child does).
I’ve always, my whole life, needed large pockets of uninterrupted time alone (far more than the average person does).
What was He thinking, pairing me with these three?
And yet . . . God said it’s supposed to be me.
Surely these boys would benefit from a loud, crazy, fun, extroverted, rough-and-tumble mother. She’s a hoot, and yet, she can lay down the law like nobody’s business when necessary. Ain’t nobody gettin’ nothing’ by her.
Instead, they have a bookish, daydreaming, “inside-voices, please” mother, who would desperately prefer to spend the day coloring, reading, and doing puzzles with them—never again playing a game of tag in the front yard, never again having another water-balloon fight. This mother tends to give grace when a consequence is deserved but is unrelenting and boorish when grace should have been extended. She never can seem to figure it out. That cannot be good, and so WHY did God put her with them? Couldn’t they do better?
And yet . . . God said it’s supposed to be “her.” Me.
I am the one God hand-picked to be these boys’ mother.
And so . . .
I will embrace our differences, trusting God knew exactly what He was doing.
I will learn from them and let them learn from me.
I’ll go their way a bit, and they can come my way some.
I’ll spend time on my knees, begging for patience and foresight.
I’ll look at it all through a different lens and notice the ways God uniquely wired me, the gifts He specifically gave me, all the ways life specifically shaped me . . . because he KNEW I’d be their mama and planned it just so.
I’ll do all of these things because God said it’s supposed to be me . . . and I’m so thankful for it.