Don't cry over burnt bread . . .

I've got to begin this post by sharing a devotional I received today. I hope you'll read it:

Why I No Longer Cry Over Burnt Bread 

Much like labor pains, I don't really remember being in the throes of poopy diapers, viruses with endless vomiting, sleepless nights of teething or days filled with coughing, hacking and breathing treatments - although I do know they existed. I do however remember running myself ragged trying to 'do it all' simply because I not only thought it was expected, but I was sure that no one could possibly do it as well as I could. So yes, I learned too late that striving to be good at all things caused me to miss the joy of so many small things. Instead I was crying over burnt bread.

I've told my kids often that if I had it to do over again I'd trade every single minute that I spent trying to maintain a spotless, orderly house for outside play, tea parties, fort building, coloring and/or just sitting or rolling around on the floor with them doing absolutely nothing. No one forced me to forgo those precious moments and they grew up way too fast. I find myself aching for those missed moments. Part of empty-nest maybe? I just know that there will never be one, but I would so much love a do-over . . .

This past week has been a tough one for our Little Boog. He's doing his best to cut multiple teeth, but they are being extremely stubborn and just causing him fits. Literally. He's been fussy, whining, clinging, not sleeping at night and just plain miserable at times. All he knows is that he hurts. And as you moms out there know, when our children hurt we're immediately on point to find a fix. That's what we do right? Well, his mom is no different. But unfortunately during times like teething, sometimes there's just nothing you can do. No amount of Tylenol, frozen washcloths, teething toys or even Tow Mater will do the trick. Sometimes the only thing that works is letting them wear themselves out by wearing your out. So, trying not to overstep the Nana boundary, I reminded her of the blessing she has of being a stay-at-home mom, her sweet nurturing ability to soothe him as no one else in this world can do. And again, I shared the lasting regrets I have for the times I didn't just sit down and 'be' without stressing over all the stuff I felt that only I could do. She gets it. She knows. And she's an absolutely awesome mom.

I came across this yesterday. I think someone actually shared it on Facebook. So I shared it with her.

Am I Enough?

This week my husband walks in the door after a long day at work to find: dishes piled in the sink, laundry all over the living room, the beef for dinner still in a frozen block, and me…looking like Frump Queen. He is gracious. And tells me to take a nap. I instantly obey. (Inwardly rejoicing.) And while I am sleeping for 45 minutes, he manages to clean the whole house…while watching our daughter. (A feat I clearly was incapable of accomplishing today. Many days.)

One part of me feels grateful the house is clean. I can relax now, right? But the other (bigger) part of me feels guilty and defeated. He just worked the whole day at his job, and then came home and did mine, too. Isn’t this why I am staying home?

Every day I have this desire to accomplish something. But every day it feels I accomplish nothing. I try to clean something, but I don’t finish. I want to do a house project, make my space more beautiful, but all those gorgeous pics on Pinterest look like something from another world. Not mine. I leave to buy something, but roam aimlessly around in the store. Nothing to bring home. I try to write, but this little person cries for all of my attention when I sit at the computer. I clip coupons and price match, and still go way over on our budget. Aghhh. At the end of the day, there’s nothing to show for the last 9 hours of exhausting effort. Of doing what?

When it feels I didn’t accomplish Super Tidy Housewife, or Spiritual Sage, or Fun Mommy, or Adoring Wife, or Betty Crocker, or the Likeable Friend…when I’m none of those titles, and all the opposites. I have to wonder: “Am I enough?“

I lay my head on the kitchen table, cheek against wood, and cry. I want my days to be of worth. But feel like they are all so: Unsuccessful.

As I lay, frozen, I hear a whisper, my daughter’s whisper:

Dear Momma,

Do you remember the nights you cried on the bathroom floor in the dark? When the pregnancy tests sat negative in the trash can? Remember when my nursery was just a storage room? A place for you and Daddy to throw your junk? Remember how you longed to brush my hair with your fingers, to sing me lullabies, to hold me close? And now I’m here.

Am I enough?

When there’s dishes in the sink, and your skinny jeans sag from all the bending, and dinner’s ingredients still sit on the shelves of the supermarket, because your days are full, full of me. Am I worth your attention? Am I an accomplishment?

Am I enough?

You kept me safe today Momma, you kept me alive. You kept me fed, and rested. You played with me, and made me laugh. Does that count Momma? Am I one of your goals Momma? Just to be together? Even if no one sees it? Or knows it?

Am I enough?

Tell me Momma, did you think I’d be different? Did you hope I’d be different? Do you see me? I’m right here Momma, the answer to your sobbing prayers. But now that I’m here, is there something else you want Momma, to feel good? Do I make your day count Momma?

Am I enough?

And suddenly, the voice changes. My heart wrenches. The Spirit of God begins to whisper, making the table under my wet cheek feel more like the chest of God. And suddenly I know He’s near.

Do you remember when I said, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for Me?” (Matt. 25:40) “And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly not lose their reward?” (Matt. 10:42) Do you not see it here Child?

All these days you live at home to serve this fragile girl, what you really are doing is serving Me. For whatever you do unto her, you do unto Me. So let me ask you: Am I enough?

What is My worth to you? In the secret places, where no one sees? Look deeper Dear One.

Can you find Me in this place? In her face?

Every diaper, every clean, dry pair of clothes,

cups of water, Cheerios, all the laughter, every tear,

each soothing whisper in her ear.

In doing so, you so clothe Me, feed Me, hear My cry,

soothe Me with your lullaby.

If all you do is spend your days, your self, on Me.

Am I enough?

I think I was not only meant to share that post with her, but was intended to allow it to rid my own heart of some type of grief I had allowed to form there. We all live with regrets and/or desires for some much needed do-overs. And like the author of the devotion I shared, I learned the hard way that I missed all sorts of sacred and significant moments because I lived with the exhausting insistence that I could do all and be all at all times.

I know that I'm a good mom. And I like to think my kids would agree. I've always done everything within my ability to be sure they're safe, well, fed and clean. I had the nickname from the neighborhood kids as O.P.M. (over-protective mom) and the Mr. reminded me just the other night of the many, many nights I would be up till the wee hours of the morning with a sick child. But even with that being said, I know that like me, there will undoubtedly be times that my own children will feel inadequate during their own years of parenting. So my prayer for them is that they discover early that nothing will ever be accomplished by crying over burnt bread . . . 

For now this sweet little blessing is my do-over ...

“So since we find ourselves fashioned into all these excellently formed and marvelously functioning parts in Christ’s body, let’s just go ahead and be what we were made to be, without enviously or pridefully comparing ourselves with each other, or trying to be something we aren’t.” Romans 12:5-6, (The Message) 

Later ;)

Shelia

Regardless, everybody is somebody's child . . .