5/14/2013

Stewarding Babies

I was digging through my posts and realized I had 24--twenty-four--drafted posts that I had started or even finished in the last 3 years and never posted. Oops. Most of them were no longer relevant and so I deleted them, though a few more are going to be posted in the upcoming weeks, ala my miniseries last week.

One post I didn't delete, from April 2012,  contained only this quote:

"Never let me forget, Lord, that though I am his mother you are his God."

I wish I could remember the context of this post. I know it was something I prayed over Roger but not the circumstances surrounding it. I do know that it's easy to try and make my kids convenient and only ever completely happy.

It's funny, because as I put the kids down for nap it was...interesting. See, the last week or so has included some AMAZING moments with our kids. There have been multiple instances of sweet snuggles, Roger on my right shoulder and Jules nuzzled into the left side of my chest. Jules has fallen asleep a few times and Roger would caress or pat my arm as we rocked in a quiet, dark room. My heart has been so full! I love my kids so much. I dreamed of being a mother my whole life, but I couldn't have imagined how amazing my kids would be or how enamored with them I would be.

A sweet moment with Roger showing his baby sister some affection.

Today...today was different. For one, I have a nasty cold. The kind where you don't get out of bed for a day or two and just sleep, read, drink lots of fluids, and pray you get better quickly. Instead, I am carrying the same load of work, chasing around a very active two year old and increasingly mobile seven month old. To top it off, Juliet is both teething and I think coming down with this same cold...which is to say, screaming almost constantly. 

So, as I was putting them down for nap, Roger was frustrated at Jules' crying. My normally happy, happy  Juliet was, per the usual, screaming. She kept trying to touch her brother--with whom she is obsessed--and Roger kept pushing her hand away, wanting to be left alone.  And then Juliet, who already had tears and drool all over my shirt, puked all over me (it was just spit up, but still unpleasant). And I thought to myself, "UUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH."

You know that quote, I think from Confucius, something about finding a job you love and you'll never work a day in your life? B to the S, I say. I LOVE my job. I would rather do nothing else. I do it for free. I do it with minimal recognition and children incapable of expressing any gratitude (yet, I hope!). But it. is. work. A lot of work. I work hard. I got up from that less lovely nap put down to go and rinse a poopy cloth diaper in the toilet, put horrible smelling cloth diapers into the wash, fold toddler and infant laundry, ruin my daily mocha protein drink (sigh...and frugal me refused to make another one), clean the kitchen, clean up from breakfast, wash dishes, and then spend an hour on the phone figuring out insurance and medical issues, only to have Roger wake up an hour early screaming.

[Though, side note, I didn't so much mind because I was just so grateful that he napped two days in a row after a week of no napping last week.]

Much happier--and creative--post nap ;)

Suffice it to say, rough day. But I am reminded yet again that my children are not my own--they are Jesus' first and foremost. I am their steward. Yes, I am their mother. No one will ever have a role with more impact than I will, not even Jason, because of the sheer quantity of time I spend with them. But I am not their God. I can treasure and adore my sweet babies, I can tell and model the Gospel to them, I can enjoy them and discipline them and pray for them and play with them, but I cannot control them. I cannot make them convenient. I cannot make their lives painless. I cannot make them sinless.

So, Jesus, thank you for this reminder today. Thank you that I am beloved by you and that you love my children far more than I can ever imagine. Thank you, thank you, thank you for grace that is new and sufficient for each day.

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