My heart is full tonight. There's a fullness that motherhood brings, and with it the weight of the world.
Not a negative, burdened weight, but one of such substance and significance that pondering it can overwhelm me.
The dichotomy of raising children: feeling at times both unseen and vital. Like I'm secluded in this little space called our lives, and feeling a little insignificant. And then I remember the weight of this job I've been given. Staying at home with my children is simultaneously the hardest thing I have ever done, and the holiest. I am broken and blessed. I serve, I give, and yet I receive more than words can say.
These little lives are like cups on a shelf that you pour into every day, and while you know you're pouring into them, you don't always see the result. One day those little cups will overflow, and what comes out will be a direct result of what you've poured in.
The raw truth is that sometimes I feel like I'm failing them. I believe I'm not as patient as I could be, or maybe I'm not disciplining enough or right, or giving them the tools they need to deal with those tough feelings. But it's a lie. I am the mother God chose for them, and He has put in me everything they need from their mother. When they make mistakes, and they will, it does not mean that I am not a good mother. It means they're human, and they're learning. And I need to give them the same grace for the process that God gives us.
I believe that the things in life that are most valuable can also be the most challenging, stretching.
The magnitude of motherhood can either weigh down your heart or fill it up. I choose to be full.
