From the Mouths of Babes

I got home from a women’s small group last night just after the kids got into bed (perfect timing, I’d call this), so I slipped into the boys’ room for quick goodnight hugs and kisses. Usually I’ll lay next to Jonah since he’s in the bottom bunk and we’ll snuggle and chat in the dark for just a little bit. Sadly, I do this way less often with the big brother up in the top bunk though. The thought of hauling myself up the small wooden ladder, gingerly climbing onto the mattress hoping not to break the wooden slats underneath, crawling around the maze of stuffed animals, blankets, pillows, to find a small spot on the twin mattress next to my boy is often more than my tired body and tireder brain can muster at the end of the day when literally all I want are sound asleep children and myself plunked down into the recliner in front of whatever show Phil wants to watch. I don’t even care to have an opinion on what to watch.

But last night, without thinking too long about it, I climbed right up and unceremoniously plopped my tired self next to him. We chatted a bit. We listened to the quiet in between Jonah’s saying “Hi Mommy! You came back!” every two minutes. We enjoyed the companionable togetherness for just a few minutes before Jonah started calling out for his turn with Mommy. Just as I reached the ladder to climb back down, Mikey popped up and said, “Mommy, you don’t know how much it means to me when you come up here with me.” I paused a moment just to look into his eyes and smile. That is my son. His heart right out there on display, open, beautiful, totally not counting up the times I was impatient and short with him that day. I told him that I love those times too just as a small lump began to rise in my throat.

Why? my brain berates. Why don’t you do this with him more often? Why can’t you show him more grace? Why can’t you remember to do one-on-one dates more often with them? Why? Why? Why?

So for the thousandth (millionth?) time, I think, oh how I wish…

But then I stop short and remember that love keeps no record of wrongs. And I realize that Mikey did exactly that for me in that small moment. He didn’t recount all the times I haven’t been the perfect parent (though he has many examples to choose from), and he didn’t remind me that love is patient and kind (though he most certainly could have). He was only in that moment, feeling grateful for the time we did get to share, and then thank me for this ONE time in a LONG time.

Huh. Funny how God uses our children to beautifully teach us the very things we clunkily try to teach our children.

So I walked out of their room last night feeling so encouraged and thankful. I am so grateful that it isn’t up to me and my efforts to churn out good little Christians. The God who knows me yet loves me more than I can fathom also loves these little children more than I ever could. His faithfulness to them knows no end. He knows the plans He has for them. And I get the great privilege of sharing in those plans and watching them unfold. And from seeing the wonderful people they’re growing up to be, I’d say God’s doing a marvelous job. In spite of me.

Praise the Lord, all nations!
    Extol him, all peoples!
For great is his steadfast love toward us,
    and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever.
Praise the Lord!

-Psalm 117