For Those Days When You’re Not Feeling Like Mom-of-the-Year…

When she’d said it, the hairs on my arms had stood up at rapt attention.

I don’t know why the simple obvious had sounded so profound coming out of a four-year-old’s mouth.

 Maybe it’s the way she exclaims every word like she’s inviting me to a party, or the way she choreographs each sentence with punctuating arm movements.

Or maybe it’s just that sometimes an old truth takes on fresh meaning when it’s uttered from the lips of a child.

I’d been making mere conversation with my preschooler, subtly trying to keep her at the table long enough to eat that peanut butter sandwich I’d served up for lunch.

I hadn’t been seeking a prescription for my sluggish soul.

But God must have known I’d need a megaphone to hear Him above the roar of life.

 And who better to amplify His timeless truth than a sticky-fingered drama queen?

“What did you learn at Vacation Bible School today?” I’d asked, not even glancing up from the greasy suds in the sink.

Maggie hadn’t needed to think long and hard before she’d replied; she’d just uttered the beautiful words as she chewed her gloppy sandwich.

“Oh, I just learned that Jesus really likes me.”

She’d flashed me a peanut-buttered grin and dangled her legs happy from the wooden chair where she wiggled. 

Then she’d stretched her arms out wide, knocking over a glass of chocolate milk with her flourish.

And added, “And I bet He really likes  you, too, Mom. Sooo much.”

I don’t know why I suddenly wanted to plop down on the filthy kitchen floor and cry instead of reach for the mop and begin soaking up that brown puddle beneath the table.

But I did.

Maybe it’s because some days I feel so unlikeable. 

Somedays I feel so messed up. And crabby. And maxed.

Somedays I don’t even like me.

And in all of this doing, in all of this pouring out and persevering; in all of this serving Him by serving them, I forget that one simple truth that my daughter so innocently declared. 

Jesus doesn’t just love me, this I know. 

He likes me. 

And He doesn’t just like what I do for Him, He actually likes to be with me.

Even when I’m not the life of the party. Or mom-of-the-year. 

He likes me.

photo credit

Even when I’m short on patience and long on complaints. 

When I’m piled in laundry and late to every appointment of the day.

Even when I’m not feeling beautiful or witty or fun.

He likes me. 

And somedays, even more than I need to hear God so loved the world, I simply need to hear the oft-ignored truth that my daughter spoke through a mouthful of peanut butter. 

Jesus likes me.

And you know what? 

He likes you, too.

Jennifer for Tell His Story, Beth for Wedded Wednesdays, and Emily for Imperfect Prose