I bark a few orders about buckling up and calming down while I toss the bags in behind them and wonder, “what did I get that cost THAT much?” I shut the glass, park the buggy, and open the rear driver’s side door to an avalanche of sippy cups and happy meal toys that roll under the car next to me. After rescuing the ones I can, I climb into the back seat and shut the door to let the patiently waiting person beside me pull out while I snap car seats, trying at the same time to referee an escalating argument about who gets the most of what color gummy bears. Once everyone’s semi-happy and buckled in, I realize I’m stuck in the backseat because both doors are child-locked and I have to not-so-gracefully climb over the center console to get into the driver’s seat. Just as I’m digging for my keys, my oldest (she was 7 at the time), chewing thoughtfully, asks, “Mommy… why did you want to have three kids?”
Ouch. I just looked at her, speechless for a second. The meager answer I gave about how boring and sad my life would be without them seemed to satisfy her curiosity, but I wasn’t quite so satisfied. My heart ached. What kind of mother was I to prompt such a question? How could I now convince her that she was one of my most precious gifts, after I had just spent the last hour distractedly making threats and tuning her out (and her siblings) in favor of a grocery list? It’s a feeling I’ll never forget. Just one of the many times I’ve had to say, “God, I messed up…again -- Help!” Suddenly I am the unruly child and there is my Heavenly Father showing me all the patience, love, and forgiveness I need to show them. In Matthew 7 Jesus compares our relationship with the Father to that of our kids with us – “If you, then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” I grew up in church learning that God loves me; but I guess it never really hit me like it did the first time I realized that he loves me like I love my kids. Wow. As imperfect a parent as I am, I still know there is nothing I wouldn’t do to give them what they need; I care about every detail of their lives; there is nothing they can ever do to diminish my love for them. If that’s how you feel about your kids, just think of “how much more” your Father in heaven feels about you. Amazing!
Deep down, that realization truly changed me. Yet still sometimes after a rough day I’ll find myself struggling with the same stinging question my daughter asked me: “God, you must be so frustrated by now -- why did you even want me?” Through my own love for my kids He reveals the answer … Because you are mine. I brought you into the world. You are a part of me, and I will never stop loving you! You’re mine.
Lori Bush