For those of you who read my last post and are feeling concerned about my qualifications for motherhood, I want to reassure you (if it were possible) with the following facts:
(First, I know I don't deserve them. No one ever deserves the gifts they are given.)
I love to hug my children and they hug me back. The feeling of one of my offspring snuggled up trustingly beside me is immeasurably precious.
They smile when I kiss them.
I enjoy working beside them, cooking, or sewing, or doing yardwork. I even enjoy teaching them these things.
According to them (despite my offering proofs to the contrary), I am a kind, patient, and funny mother who is never selfish and always puts them first. (Let's just chalk that up to the optimism of youth, shall we?)
I love giving them good things - a favorite meal, a sweet treat, a small gift picked up while I'm running errands - just to see their faces light up with pleased surprise.
They trust me. Confide in me. Offer their journals to me to read.
I ask for their opinions and preferences when we make schedule changes or plan family week (photos coming soon ... !).
They still call me Mommy, despite hearing their friends move on to "Mom."
Most of my waking hours are spent considering what is best for them. They fill my prayer time; God has heard more from me about my children than about any. other. thing.
I trust them. I regularly answer their "Should I ___ or ____ ?" with a confident "You may choose. I trust your judgement."
It's true that I dearly love Quiet Time. It's true that evenings, after the children are in bed and it's just me and my Farmer, are one of my favorite times of the day. It's true that I look forward all month to the time when my own mom comes to spend the day with my children so that I can (one sweet day a month) meet a friend, or go shopping for fun, or walk in the park with just my thoughts and the birds to listen to.
I am wired for solitude.
And I am a mother.
And I love my children.
[I just don't love to play their games.]
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