They are beautiful you know. My children. They dance and sing and bicker. Sometimes it’s hard and I’m not sure which parenting road to turn down, a hard line or over flowing grace but still I love all of it with them.
To see the stories the Lord is highlighting in my children’s lives pulls me to examine my own view of the creator. A domineering figure? No, my holy Father. Similar to myself. He loves his children and through ebb and flow, is there.
When a new face comes into my children’s life and the joy and excitement of a new person to love and play with takes over, I’m still there. When they prefer the company of others, I’m still there. When they don’t want to look into my face as they admit poor behavior, it’s me. When I’m not the cool kid on the block that week because I’m just Mom and they found something else to focus on, I’m there. I’ll always be there until I breathe my last breathe.
The calls to the bathroom for help. The tears when they hurt themselves. The midnight sneaks into my bed. The hugs when it hurts. It’s all me. Everytime. They. Come. And I love it all. Not the hurt of course but that my children come to me. That I’m there. That I get to be there.
I imagine in many prayers and midnight tears my holy Father the same way. The years when He wasn’t very cool. The days I overlooked Him for another. The hours I refused to talk to Him because of the same desire not to meet His eye. But He was still there. And in the same love. Ready to pour out a hard line or overflowing grace.
Why then? Why do it all?
Because that’s parenting. That’s love. It’s not control. Though I could I guess. Step in and over step. Bend and break. But then we wouldn’t have this.
The realness .
It’s the hardest thing. Loving someone that’s…free? Yes of themselves. But no matter what they would do I’d always love them. Always.