I’m not shy about sharing my difficulties in parenthood. I have days that I yell at my kids more than I listen to them. There are days that I want to hole up in a closet and let the tears stream. Heck, there are days that I DO hole up and let the tears stream (though not in a closet. I wish we had bigger closets).
Yesterday, I was having a rough afternoon with my kids, even though I’d had the blessing of a friend come over for the morning to watch them so I could get lots of errands run. As we were hitting the dinnertime crunch, I felt myself spiraling into a dark place. I sat down in the middle of my kitchen, called my kids over to me, and asked them to pray for me.
Big sat in my lap and said “Dear Lord, please help Mommy not be angry. Let her know we’ll have a better day tomorrow, and that I love her. Amen”. She gave my neck a squeeze and got up to go play.
Middle, having watched her Big pray for Mommy, then sat in my lap, draped her little chubby arm around my neck, closed her eyes, and said “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy. Amen”. She then gave me a kiss and got up to go play.
I’ve been able to recognize that the anger doesn’t come from me. It darkens my mind to who I am and who I want to be. I don’t get a rush out of being nasty to my kids. I don’t enjoy it. I don’t want them to live by that example. That’s how I know it’s not from me. It’s the Enemy telling me I can’t cut it. It’s the Enemy that puts the thoughts of “what have I done???” when I think of adding our 3rd baby. It’s the Enemy who makes me repeat “I can’t do this!! I can’t do this!!”.
It’s God who tells me I have my kids for a reason. It’s God who gave them the spirit to stop for 30 seconds to pray for Mommy. It’s God that tells me today is a new day and His mercies are new. It’s God who works the miracles in my life, not the one who casts the shadows. He is the light.
And the light is bright in my kids.