On doorknobs and nice things

My beast of a toddler busted a door knob the other day, because he was slamming the door open out of anger. He has a temper that’s in full force these days, because toddlers. I said to him, “you are why we can’t have nice things.” Because I’m nice (imperfect) like that. But it’s true. The kids are often why we can’t have nice things, like, you know, doorknobs.

… And fancy couches, clothes that are predominately white, clean floors, meals that are relaxed and contain fancy ingredients, clean cars, silence, and the list goes on.

A non-parent friend joked recently to us about how our kids really tie us down, which is also true. We don’t party late at night, we don’t take impromptu trips or romantic getaways, and much of life these days is determined by these three little people who live here with us. 

 There’s no way around the fact that life with kids is different, exhausting, depleting, and sometimes utterly exasperating. Ryan didn’t want to have to buy and install a new doorknob that day (it was the door to the garage…). I get tired of the broken dishes, the marked up furniture, the mundane cleaning, and the ruined clothing. More than that, the emotional requirements of parenting seem well above my pay grade on any given day. My resources often seem to run dry. (Don’t even get me started on how absolutely minuscule my parenting issues are when I consider those who face much deeper and more significant challenges like terminal illness parenting, special needs parenting, etc. I probably sound like a broken record here, but I’m sending you a hug today.)

But y’all. This motherhood thing is my calling. I was put on this earth to serve Jesus, love Ryan, raise my boys, and love people. I count myself infinitely fortunate to be living this life, especially in view of the fact that so many of my friends have longed for and prayed for children of their own, to no avail. I do not shrug off the weight of that statement easily.

AND, sure, there are many astounding benefits to mothering these cute boys. They’re adorable. They are sweet, funny, energetic, and life-giving. They keep me young (and simultaneously age me and give me gray hairs 👵😏😉). Being a mom gives me purpose and teaches me lessons I had never imagined. And some days it is ridiculously fun! I get to play for a living. Even at the end of hard days, there’s no other life I would ever choose. Ever. But I think it goes beyond these benefits to something that is, or at least should be, more universal in the Christian experience.

“Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” Philippians 2:3-8

What this passage reminds me personally is that motherhood is my own daily opportunity for service that mirrors the humble Savior who came “not to be served but to serve” (Matthew 20:28). Here in the midst of the laundry and the dishes and the snotty noses and the broken everything, I can choose to “count others as more significant” than myself. While serving might not mean that I humble myself to the point of death (though let’s be honest about the love of a parent, through which we would gladly do that), we face perhaps the equally challenging task of serving others with gratitude, giving up selfishness, and welcoming even the mundane tasks of life. One thing I love about this truth is that it puts motherhood in the proper light. Motherhood itself is not the highest good or the only right thing for a Christian woman to do. Motherhood IS beautiful and amazing and holy, even among all the broken doorknobs and forfeited things, but lots of other callings and journeys are just as beautiful and challenging! Motherhood is ONE niche, and happens to be my niche, where this whole sacrifice business can be practiced, tested, and beautified. 

It’s not pretty, this isn’t a novel concept, and I am a major work in progress. I have trouble finding a servant’s heart especially when I first wake up (cofffeeeee… Where is my coffeeeeee???), and the dinner to bedtime hours are sometimes just brutal (you know this, moms, amen). I looked at my littlest one this morning, though, and realized how utterly fortunate I am to be laying down my life for these little men, whom I already so ardently adore. So maybe this week I’ll start with with something simple like NOT being snarky/ telling him he’s the reason that I can’t have nice things. I clearly have much to learn. I hope and pray that the boys will get something good (well mainly I hope they just get Jesus) from growing up with me as mom, but I do at least know that God is using their childhoods to shape and refine their imperfect, grateful, sometimes crazy momma.

 

 O, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; it is in dying that we are born again to eternal life. (St. Francis of Assisi)

Our various callings can be (or feel) similar to dying as we lay down our agendas, our selfishness, and sometimes our desires to prefer someone else. It isn’t glamorous, and the heavenly equation is too lofty for me to fully understand or explain. I just know that I wouldn’t trade this life of humility and service and inexplicable JOY for all the beautiful doorknobs and nice things in the world.

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