A piece of white hair hung over his icy blue eyes as his flushed face contorted in brow-furrowed frustration.
His lanky three-year-old legs dangled over the edge of the little red time out chair.
His words hung heavy between us.
I wish I had a different Mommy!
He clenched his fist and swatted the air in exasperation.
I knew those words weren’t totally true.
They were just the arrows of anger coming from a preschooler who had been told no.
No, you cannot dig a hole in the neighbors backyard.
I know you want to excavate dinosaur bones, but you’ll need to do that in our yard.
I don’t care if the neighbors have better mud. You may NOT leave holes in their yard.
But the words of my firstborn still stung deep, made me want to kick and scream along with my disgruntled boy and hurl my own wounded rebuttal at my knee-high child:
A me that was better suited for toddler tantrums and time-out battles.
I ‘d felt like a champion the day we met.
And the more my gaps became visible.
And watched as he smiled even when no one was looking.
And I caught him pulling his little brother on his lap and hugging him longer than necessary, and spinning his little sister in circles and kissing her soft blonde curls.
And I saw the way he glowed with a Moses-radiance; noticed how he sported the look of one who has spent time in the presence of the Almighty.
And I realized that my holes matter little.
He told tales of worship that moved his soul and of his counselor’s powerful testimony.
He spoke of afternoons spent in the lake and the thrill of midnight games.
He sighed, satisfied, this one with an unquenchable hunger for more.
And when I asked what the best part of it all was, he quietly answered, “God was there.”
And I knew deep in my soul where my shortcomings simmer and taunt that what faith says is true–
I’ll never be enough.
But God always will be.
Enough for my fast-footed son and my carefree girl.
Enough for my tender one and my hard-working one and my stubborn and sassy one.
My children don’t need a different mommy.
They simply need a faithful Father.
And that will be ENOUGH.
The Overflow: “God! Let the cosmos praise your wonderful ways, the choir of holy angels sing anthems to your faithful ways! Search high and low, scan skies and land, you’ll find nothing and no one quite like God. The holy angels are in awe before him; he looms immense and august over everyone around him. God-of-the-Angel-Armies, who is like you, powerful and faithful from every angle?” –Psalm 89:5, The Message
Still counting gifts from my faithful father…
1241. A swimming party at my dear friend’s pond- birthday fun and giggling girls
1242. My niece’s visit for the week- a marvelous unplanned joy
1243. A waterpark on a 100 degree day
1244. A quiet house by 10 pm. Time to pray. Think. Savor.
1245. Curled up beneath a tree with Hannah doing our Mommy and Me Bible study. Sweet words shared. Precious time alone.
1246. My son, aglow with the radiance of Jesus– the glories of camp still shining in his eyes.
1247. The Holy Spirit stirring conviction deep in me; a call out of complacency
1248. The sweet sounds of a little boy making truck noises as he plays 🙂
Linking again in community with Ann and these lovely grace seekers: l.l. for on, in, and around mondays, laura for playdates with god, ruth at the better mom, and jen for soli deo gloria