Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the worst Mom of them all?
And with all of the condemnation and judgement the mirror could muster, it landed its hurtful blow. You.
Snow White is no match for you.
The car is relatively quiet. Our Vacation Bible School CD is playing some of our favorite tunes. Occasionally I hear my 5 year old say, “Mom, look at this” as a picture book is turned toward me for my enjoyment. My frequent response, “I can’t look while I’m driving.” I cannot help but remember how my husband talked of his experience while driving our daughter to kindergarten. He spoke of laughter, singing, learning new things, talking.
Our family dog begins neurotically jumping from the front of the car to the back. I am getting increasingly agitated as I push him in his seat. Why did I ever think it a good idea to bring this untrained dog? My tone is obviously impatient and filled with frustration as I attempt to demand obedience through my exasperation.
We arrive at school. As if in a fairytale, I attempt an idyllic goodbye scene. Am I delusional or simply unwilling to acknowledge the tension permeating the car?
“Mom, just drop me off”, my daughter says with an air of independence and a hint of anxiety. Feeling so flustered I do not even know how to make that happen. The parking lot is full. The dog is still on the move. My anger at the dog is mounting. And I am still delusionally clinging to my desire for an idyllic goodbye moment.
In the middle of my outburst my ears flood with her S.O.S. cry. “Mom. Listen to the song. Do you hear the song Mom? It’s so peaceful. It’s so much more fun when you’re peaceful.”
Pause. Enter time warp. The world shifts into slow motion around me.
When is it ever appropriate for a 5 year old to feel it necessary to bring calm to a parent?
I sought her forgiveness and then I drove home in tears. The heaviness; unbearable. My internal world seemed shipwrecked on a sailboat being tossed about in a gale wind. I could not keep up with all of the thoughts flooding my mind.
Quit. Quit. Quit. Quit every single thing you are doing outside of taking care of your little family. It’s all I could think about as feelings of failure overtook my being.
And then, seeing my complete vulnerability, the deeper darkness came in with its razor sharp harpoon.
She will need therapy because of you. She will never see God accurately because of you. She will disconnect from you and live in fear of you. When you are old she won’t spend time with you.
And. Then. He. Spoke.
Look at all of those accusations. What is the common word? I looked at the words on the journal page as if searching for buried treasure.
You.
The answer. It is you. And that is not the answer.
When did I become so powerful?
When did my daughter’s life trajectory depend on me?
I repented of my actions before the Lord. I wept in His presence and confessed my inadequacies. I talked to Him about the stress I carry because I have yet to learn how to set and maintain healthy margins. My Lord and I talked about how this stress manifests in my family in ugly ways that need to change.
I am not proud of that moment in the car. But that moment does not define me or my daughter’s future. And. That. Is. The. Truth.
As a parent I have an incredible responsibility to model Christlike behavior before my child. God has given me the opportunity to be His representative in her life. And sometimes I will fail. But my failures are never the final word.
God is writing His story of redemption through both of us. He started a good work in both of us and He will finish it. But it will not be complete until Jesus returns for us (Php 1:6).
God knows the happenings of yesterday, today, and tomorrow (Ps 139:16). That means He knew about today’s epic Mom failure moment. And that is liberating. It is just a moment.
My great hope is to pick her up from school and have a different kind of moment.
A moment where God shines and peace fills the air.
When you hear the darkness speak, remember that the word you is a weapon meant to paralyze us with fear and keep us focused on self. God holds us and our children in His hands. Our futures belong to Him and His good plans.
Our lives are made up of moments. Just moments. And if God can raise the dead, He can heal a moment. So today, dear Masterpieces, know that the God who calls you by Name is doing a beautiful work in you...moment by moment.
