The Little Bear

None of us can do everything.  I'd like to think I can, but there are only so many hours in a day, only so much strength in the body.  As the mother of five children, I sure experience my limitations.  How I wish I could give each child all of my time and attention, to play every board game they want to play, paint every picture together, and listen attentively to each story they tell (which requires much more time for some of my children than others).  But there are also dishes to be washed, floors to be swept, diapers to be changed, and so, they often hear, "not now, I'm sorry."  There is also the fact that sometimes this introverted mommy just wants a moment alone.  There are advantages to the large family, though, because the kids have constant playmates and good friends who will listen, pretend, and laugh.  They learn to share, to be patient, and to get along with others. 

Nevertheless, it often happens that as I'm sitting on the edge of my bed each night, nursing my youngest to sleep, that I feel guilty that I didn't do enough.  My mind jumps from one place to the next each day, spinning in circles, and it finally stills somewhat as I sit there in the dim light at night.  I wish I could learn to still my mind amidst the hustle and bustle, to stop and be still, but that is something that may take a lifetime of practice.  As I was sitting in that quiet, sleepy light recently, I noticed the little bear that my 7-year-old daughter, Vera, made for her 2-year-old brother for Christmas.  I had enough time to really consider it.  Sure, she had shown it to me before, but I had probably smiled, said "that's so nice!", and then moved on.  But in the quiet, I just sat and stared at it.  How beautiful it is.  How full of love.  How thoughtful that she labored to make this sweet gift all on her own.  How proud I am.  And I wanted to tell her that, but she was asleep. 

Oh grace!  Today is new and I can tell my dear girl how much I admire her work.  But there will be other sweet gestures I will miss, other games not played.  My lap will not be available each time they want to sit in it... but I will do my best.  I will try, and they will know they are loved, and that God's grace is good.  They will know that while I cannot be everything for them, that God is; and that He uses both the ups and the downs to teach us and to lead us into the fullness of His salvation.  Parents, we pour ourselves out, and it can be exhausting work, but salvific.  What a beautifully humbling job we have.  Let us take a breath... and carry on.