An Empty Mom

Yesterday I woke up empty.  The only reason I rolled out of bed was to take my 15-year old and her friend to their early morning swim practice.  Left to myself I would have slept until noon and tried to forget the events of the day before.  But, after my downtown jaunt, I found myself sitting in the den at 6 a.m. cup of coffee and Bible in hand, wondering how to begin another day.  For many days, Mark has been out-of-town and I have been running the marathon of parenting/managing the 5 kids.  If everything goes according to schedule it is exhausting at best.   But, two days ago the wheels fell off and in the midst of leaping high buildings, my kids began to complain.  They were feeling the injustice of life and saying things like, "I didn't get to play x-box today;" "why to I have to ride in the car to pick up _____ from school?" "I wiped the kitchen after breakfast. . . why do I have to do it again?" "I'll wash the dishes when I'm ready."  These are statements of audacious ingratitude that pierce the heart of any conscientious parent.   Diismay turns into self-condemnation.  Where did I mess up? 

But then one my kids threw down the gauntlet, doing something wrong, then something worse and denying that they were wrong in any way.  Thirty minutes before neighbor ladies were arriving for bible study, I had an angry, inconsolable child, a heart swinging between anger and grief. . . and a pounding headache.  We talked, he repented, I prayed.  But, my heart did not easily rebound.

And so yesterday morning found me empty.  My shelf of parenting strategies was empty.   I had no solution, no plan, no resolve for how to make this day a better day.  I was confronted with the troubling fact that no matter how much I love my kids and work on their behalf, I cannot control the outcome of their lives.  I want them to know Jesus loves them, to care for others, to speak truth and to live honorably.  But, no amount of effort on my part or Mark's part can guarantee that outcome.  In the quietness of the morning I was confronted with how little control I had over my children's destinies. . . and that made me angry.  I can shape their behavior (kinda), but I can't affect change in their heart.  This ugly part of me can become a "mommy bully" who threatens and shames my kids into "looking good."  But, still this is not the heart change that I desire.

I dumped all this before God. " I'm a bad mom with bad kids and no hope.  What do I do?"  Into my angst, God asked me, "What do you most need?"  My response was swift:  "Hope. . . hope that You still love me, hope that You can be for my kids what I cannot be, hope that my story and my kids story is still being written."  And just as quickly His response came, "That is exactly what you kids need." 

There was the shift. . . from wanting a solution, to begging God to refuel my heart with His love. . . asking for the miracle of being soft and kind when my kids woke up, not punishing them for yesterday's sins.  I was desperate, but not despairing; reminded that I was held by a Love that doesn't let go even when I mess up.  Learning how to press forward with love in the face of disappointment and pain is a hard lesson.  It is a miracle. 

Yesterday my miracle began with a broken heart and an open book and a Savior who reached down and whispered hope.  It unfolded with bacon and pancakes waiting for my kids when they woke up.  It showed up when kindness supplanted the prior day's anger and gratitude replaced grumbling.  The day I dreaded became a day of surprise and beauty.  I enjoyed my kids, they enjoyed one another and hope was rebirthed.
"And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us."  Romans 5:5