in motherhood

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I struggle to know what the right choice is when it comes to you.  Do I walk close to keep you in my constant care or do I let you step ahead a little and watch as you walk farther and farther away?  The moment you were born was a letting go.  You breathed your first and I held you close, suddenly so aware of my own inadequacy.  Your sweet newborn smell would quickly fade to the scent of fresh air, good clean dirt, and independence.  I'm caught in the middle of this.  You imply "Stay close enough so I can still hear you singing, but walk back there so I feel like I'm doing this on my own".  Motherhood is a funny thing.  I have nothing to gauge how I'm doing.  You have good days and bad just like me.  Someone could judge one way or another at any given time. 

I judge myself.  Most harshly, I am sure.

Sometimes I am too caught up in myself to really look at you.  Insecurity nips at my heels.  I wonder if what I'm doing matters at all.  Am I just making things worse?  Lapses of time when my own selfishness is out of control.  Or in control of me.  That nattering, accusing voice takes residence in my head.   I'm too loud.  Too scattered.  Too careless.  Too soft.  Too serious.  Too selfish.  Too broken.  Too me.  I have my own lifetime of experiences to sort through, piecing together my puzzle of hurts, impulsive decisions and foolish choices.  I wonder how these things affect you because they have infected me.  Am I doing this all wrong?  What if it's too late to make the crooked line straight?  How much time have I lost with my naval gazing?

If I'm honest, sweetheart, I haven't a clue what I'm doing.  Not really.  I have made decisions dictated by what others would think, uneducated guesses based on my foggy rememberances of my days passed and from tidbits of knowledge I've gained from books. 

...Oh, maybe I am selling myself short.  That accusing voice always leaves out the Truth... 

I DO pray for you with a fervancy I have never known before.  I earnestly want your life to be found in Him.  The One who created us.  The One who restores and redeems the hurt and wounded places.  As I write this a profound Truth dawns on me.  My own restoration will be your example.  His growing and reshaping of me comes through in my bad days and in the good.  When I am real and honest, telling you I'm sorry when I've crossed the line from loving adult to foolish temper-tantrum-throwing-child.  Asking your forgiveness when I've let that selfishness be my guide instead of His wonderfully loving way.  I have asked Him, on more than one occasion, are You sure there is to be 5? (I laugh to myself thinking of the conversation we had in the van yesterday, you 5 asking for just one more and could it be a little sister?) 

You wonderful children.  This broken, weak, and insecure vessel loves best when she just submits to His leading, scars and all.  He is good and His love endures forever.

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