Sweetness in Serving

Dowd Simpson

05 Aug, 2015

I have such tension in my heart. Riding the title wave. Yes tile wave. It certainly feels like that to me. The title wave of emotions that will eventually come crashing onto the rocky shores of my reality, the reality that I am a full-time mom and the intense amount of joy and challenge that can bring me in the very same breath. Tight tension between His reign and mine, between fruit and sin, between selfless and selfish. 

I love my children to the moon and back, one million eighty nine gazillion. It is such an extreme type of love, a rip your heart out sort of love that leaves you spent after letting them wonderfully and unabashedly suck every drop out of you till you feel like and look like a hand-me-down doll left exhaustedly satisfied as she is carried off in the current of sentiment, over the edge and into the abyss of infinite self fulfillment through self act only a mother would understand, an act of pouring oneself out for the ones she cannot live without so that one day they can live without her.

Then on the other hand, it is not easy to pour my life out, to lay it down, to no longer think of myself but of the lives of others, to never again be first, to always be last, to feel it is a win if I brushed my teeth and made my bed, and a complete home run if I showered that day. There are times when I feel as if there is a monster inside of me screaming over the chaos and complete disary of my home, growling for attention and some grasp at sanity, which is quite humorous actually to think about my "me monster" shaking its fists and demanding sanity. The act of that in and of itself is anything but and very far from that which I am desiring.

But the truth is, being a mother is hard, especially if relying solely on my own ability to muster up sanity, to keep order in chaos, to remain calm after the one thousandth repetition of the same word "no" or "stop" or "sit" or "listen," to be kind during disobedience, to be joy filled when out of control and to love in the midst of exhaustion. It's not actually hard, it is impossible. Because we will fail. We cannot do it on our own. There is no human being who is able to maintain all of those qualities without a crack. Except one. Jesus. Thank you God for sending us a Savior to carry us when we cannot take another step, when two more hours feels more like an eternity, when the ability to speak in a calm, kind, gentle and controlled voice flew out the window somewhere on 85 thirty minutes into the trip, and when another load of miraculously finished and folded laundry goes yet again unseen and under appreciated. Thank you Jesus that you came to serve and not to be served. Thank you Jesus that you laid your life down for me. Thank you that you loved me so intensely that you willingly died that I might live. Thank you that you show me what it truly means to be humble and what it truly means to love. I think I love my children, but you love them far greater than I can ever imagine, and you have for me that same ferocious tide wave of all consuming love.

Lord in the midst of my tension between Your reign and mine, between fruit and sin, between selfless and selfish, let me be so consumed with your amazing love for me that it overflows into everything I do and the act of pouring myself out to my children becomes an act of worship and gratitude to you for what you have done for me.