I am honored by my precious daughter. When I doubt or wonder about my mothering abilities, Heavenly Father puts my troubled soul at ease through Mini-Me's righteous choices & actions.
She doesn't realize what an example she is to me. Nor does she know the extent of healing she brings to my life. I'm grateful for my exquisite daughter, and I love her so much!
I believe that children are "an heritage of the Lord" (Psalms 127:3) for very important reasons. Not only did each of God's children need to come to Earth to receive a body, and progress according to His great Plan of Happiness, but children are meant to refine, teach, and grow their parents as well. It's another beautiful aspect of children being our inheritance... as we, being their stewards, parent children we are preparing; we are receiving a taste of what's to come, in the eternal perspective.
How can we become like our Heavenly Parents without walking a little in their shoes? Procreation is a Godly power. That's understood. Perhaps what we often forget is that righteous parenting is a Godly talent. I hope that I can become more valiant in managing my inheritance/stewardship here... not only just being Mini-Me's mother, but in excelling in developing & better utilizing my talents of parenting her righteously.
What a privilege it is to be the mom of my hero!
The following post from Melissa over at the ModSquad fits so well with the sentiments of my heart today. Enjoy!
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Posted: 11 May 2011 10:00 PM PDT
According to the newspaper headline, my youngest daughter had to determine which delightful characteristics described the “World’s Best Mom!”, who apparently was me. Madelyn vigorously began checking every box, giving very little thought to selecting the outstanding and colorful adjectives.
Awesome.
Craftsy.
Funny.
Loving.
After completing the entire list of more than twenty words, she paused to glance back over it. She realized she made a mistake. Turning her pencil around, she carefully erased one check mark, then another. To be certain I didn’t see a remnant of the check marks, Madelyn scribbled out the words. That is, the words that don’t describe me.
Brave.
Energetic.
For a moment, I wanted to stand on my soapbox and describe the millions of ways I am indeed brave and energetic. The slow churning of my defense mechanisms started to roar loud as I searched for ways to make my case.
But God. Yes, God through the work of the Holy Spirit plowed right through my heart.
“For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought…” Romans 12:3
I tend to forget I can’t be everything to my daughters. Yet, sometimes my pride gets a tick mark on the scorecard thinking I can.
I bent down low to my six-year old, undoubtedly staring into the eyes of a winsome and perceptive soul. She sees me, I know. She sees the silliness, the laughter and the paint stains on my hands. She feels the tender touch of my arms lovingly wrap around her at night as I whisper prayers into darkness.
And she sees when I don’t know she’s looking.
She sees when I back out of challenges because fear gets in the way. She sees how little I take risks and how utterly freaked out I become of the unknown – or spiders. She sees my procrastination and the times I choose to sleep the days away. Things I don’t want her to see.
“You are right. Mommy isn’t always brave. I get scared, just like you. And sometimes I am just tired. I wish I had the energy to play with you every time we go to the park.”
Knees bent, looking at my daughter, I offer up a prayer of thanksgiving. My daughter sees me as I truly am. Is there a greater gift?
“It’s okay, Mommy! I still love you!” Her big arms wrap around my neck and I almost fall over from the very strength of her hug. Yes, there is a greater gift – to be loved even still.
I offer up another prayer. Not to become more brave or energized. Rather that my daughters would see Jesus fill in the gaps. Whether I’m paralyzed with fear or fatigue, may I have the freedom to say so and may we be drawn to the One who is our ever present help in time of need.
For years I’ve struggled with being a perfectionist. Today I am proud to claim I’m an imperfect mom, and my daughters love me even still.
Do you have the tendency to strive for perfection in motherhood? How has God taught you to trust in Him to fill in the gaps?
**************************************************************Awesome.
Craftsy.
Funny.
Loving.
After completing the entire list of more than twenty words, she paused to glance back over it. She realized she made a mistake. Turning her pencil around, she carefully erased one check mark, then another. To be certain I didn’t see a remnant of the check marks, Madelyn scribbled out the words. That is, the words that don’t describe me.
Brave.
Energetic.
But God. Yes, God through the work of the Holy Spirit plowed right through my heart.
“For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought…” Romans 12:3
I tend to forget I can’t be everything to my daughters. Yet, sometimes my pride gets a tick mark on the scorecard thinking I can.
I bent down low to my six-year old, undoubtedly staring into the eyes of a winsome and perceptive soul. She sees me, I know. She sees the silliness, the laughter and the paint stains on my hands. She feels the tender touch of my arms lovingly wrap around her at night as I whisper prayers into darkness.
And she sees when I don’t know she’s looking.
She sees when I back out of challenges because fear gets in the way. She sees how little I take risks and how utterly freaked out I become of the unknown – or spiders. She sees my procrastination and the times I choose to sleep the days away. Things I don’t want her to see.
“You are right. Mommy isn’t always brave. I get scared, just like you. And sometimes I am just tired. I wish I had the energy to play with you every time we go to the park.”
Knees bent, looking at my daughter, I offer up a prayer of thanksgiving. My daughter sees me as I truly am. Is there a greater gift?
“It’s okay, Mommy! I still love you!” Her big arms wrap around my neck and I almost fall over from the very strength of her hug. Yes, there is a greater gift – to be loved even still.
I offer up another prayer. Not to become more brave or energized. Rather that my daughters would see Jesus fill in the gaps. Whether I’m paralyzed with fear or fatigue, may I have the freedom to say so and may we be drawn to the One who is our ever present help in time of need.
For years I’ve struggled with being a perfectionist. Today I am proud to claim I’m an imperfect mom, and my daughters love me even still.
Do you have the tendency to strive for perfection in motherhood? How has God taught you to trust in Him to fill in the gaps?
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2 comments:
Yayyy Mini-Me on your awesome talk!
It doesn't surprise me at all that she is wonderful - Look who her mother is!!
I agree with Cherie's sentiments...daughters who are wonderful usually have wonderful mother's!!!
She is a cute cute girl!!
Congrats!!!
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