As swiftly as the days go by, it’s still an effort to get out of bed. Not that I’m complaining. Sleeping is such a wonderful, sinful pastime. The morning beckons and I roll over.
“Just five more minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”
The sound of little feet and high pitched squeals remind me that five minutes is asking for too much this time. What a glorious, breathtaking morning! I just wish that I could wake myself up. Stuck between slumber and barely awake, I stumble down the steps and begin my typical routine. Fresh cup of milk, small bowl of cereal, topped with a child’s vitamin, hold the coffee please. I’ve never been a coffee drinker in my life and despite my valiant attempt to welcome this new day I still can’t handle the stuff.
As I try to make some semblance of order out of the rambling thoughts that scurry around in my head, I’m reminded why there’s been a block for so long. It’s simply impossible to get anything done with a two year old under foot. Lord knows I love her and would give my life for her safety. She’s at the age where she needs constant activity, constant stimulation. Everything is a challenge. What she will eat this morning, what she will wear, how long we stay at the park, why can’t she watch the movie again even though we just got finished viewing it three times?
It’s hard to stay patient when everything is a potential struggle for power. You know that in order to win, someone will inevitably raise her voice for emphasis. I used to get up an hour early for quiet times with God. This too, is difficult when it seems that exhaustion follows my every move. I have very little freedom these days. Despite the gloomy portrayal, I still manage to see joy in every ounce.
Slow as Christmas, I feel it creeping up on me, threatening to choke out altogether the nasty, unfriendly emotions that held me hostage from childhood. Spoon-fed negativity practically from birth, I’ve had to teach myself the positive side of life and relish in those things that are truly gifts from above. Joy fills my senses and it is good.
This child is a gift and every day that I’m allowed to care for her as well. How special she is. How humble I am that I’ve been called to be her mother, given my propensity to enjoy a little too much the comforts of pillow and blanket. She makes me laugh every day. She tests my patience constantly. I have to wonder if God sees me the same way I see her.
Does he see a youngster, eager to get on with life with so many questions? Am I relentless in my struggle for power and the need to do things my way, instead of his? I’m positive that I test his capability to be longsuffering. I wonder if I make him laugh or cry or get so tired that if he could sleep he would? (Praise him that he’s given me that ability!)
I wonder if I tried to see her the way he sees me, would I still have the need to lose my temper when provoked beyond natural limits? Would I respond in love, instead of fatigue, giving in only when all other attempts to be reasonable have failed? Would I want to ring her little neck when I’m trying my hardest to have some “me” time but instead end up threatening discipline one more time when obedience seems to be on the backburner?
If I saw my child the way God sees me, would I be a better parent? If the Lord saw me the way I see my child, would I still have forgiveness or second chances or free access to him, wherever and whenever I wanted? Would his love equal mine in nature? She’s finally down for her nap now. I think I’ll go try and answer some of those questions. Hopefully I’ll learn a little something extra about parenting.
Copywrite 2005 Sherry Castelluccio
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Well done! Thought provoking, for sure! Do try to remember that even our Creator took a day of rest and our blessed Savior took time to be alone, away from the crowds to simply rest. For your little doll's sake, as well as your own, make sure you take that time... just like the Lord.
