Do You Even Want These Presents?

There is a day I remember like it was yesterday. I remember the way I felt, at least. It was MOPS day. And MOPS Day, when I had three young kids, was my very favorite day of the week. 

As you know, I'm kind of extroverted. I'm outgoing. I love spending time with people. And as a mother of three young children, I kind of felt trapped in those early days of mothering. I don't love using that word, but it is actually how I felt. I did. I felt trapped.

So I would look forward to these once-a-month MOPS meetings where I would get to sit at a table with a bunch of other moms while my kids played in the nursery and it was just my favorite day.

But on this particular day, we were running late. That was often the case. Honestly, that hasn't changed much in the last seventeen or eighteen years.

I don't remember what I said to my kids that morning. The three oldest kids were six, four, and two. I probably shoved my diaper bag and my purse and whatever muffins or snacks I was bringing to MOPS into the minivan, tried to get everybody to get their shoes on, go potty, go, go, go, and I was frustrated because we were late.

And that's what I remember. I actually remember feeling rage-level frustration. Because this was the one day that I felt like I got to be with other people in what was kind of a lonely period in my life. I just felt so frustrated.

Why was it so hard for these small children to just do what I asked them to do so we could get out of the house? Why couldn't we ever be on time?

I don't remember a lot of the details, but I must have said something awful to my children that morning. Because I remember on the van ride to MOPS, I heard my oldest daughter's very small voice from the backseat say, "Mom, you know how you say that children are gifts from God? Do you even want those presents anymore?"

That moment happened nearly two decades ago and still, my body has the same reaction when I say that. When I tell that story, it's like a gut punch. I can feel my heart rate speeding up. I remember at the time, it was like a slap in the face.

I remember thinking, "So this is it then. This is how your children are going to remember you as a mother. This is the message you're sending them about whether or not you enjoy being with them. This is what your girls are going to grow up to think motherhood is. Your kids are going to grow up feeling like their mom screamed at them, and all so that you can get to a MOPS meeting on time."

That day was a wake up call for me. I realized if I didn't change the impression that I was giving to my kids about being their mom, they would never understand that actually being their mom was the greatest privilege of my life. They wouldn't realize I loved being their mom. That even on the days that were kind of awful, I still wouldn't trade it for the world.

Back then, as trapped and exhausted as I felt, if someone said, "Here, I'll raise your kids for you, you're free to go. I will raise them," I would have passed on that.

I feel called to this work as their mother. I feel privileged to be able to do it. And more than anything, I want my kids to know that they're loved and wanted and that I enjoy being with them, that they're delights. I want them to know that God delights in them because they see the way I delight in them.

Now, it's not always true, of course, that I delight in them. I don't always enjoy being with my kids. I don't always crave their presence. Some days, I don't love homeschooling them, but I want them to feel like I do. I want them to feel enjoyed, to feel loved.

And when I'm able to extract myself from the nitty grittiness of daily homeschooling life, I can say with some authority that I do, in fact, love the homeschooling life.

We talked a couple of weeks back about being nostalgic about the moment you're in and I know that ten years from now I will be nostalgic about these days today.

Even though, true story, last night at 10pm I took pictures of my kitchen table just to remind myself of what life looks like. We have this big, enormous kitchen table and it was covered–and I do mean covered–with bits of foil and string and rubber bands and fourteen pairs of scissors and matches and popsicle sticks and crafts and paint and literally everything under the sun. Whatever you're imagining, just add like five pounds of random household items that eleven- year-olds could possibly make DIY rockets with because that is what was happening at my house last night. There is no horizontal surface in my house that is not covered with these bits and bobs and hot glue guns and globs of hot glue everywhere.

I do know in ten years, I'll be nostalgic for the days when my eleven and twelve-year-olds spent hours listening to audiobooks and crafting with paint and glue guns and making homemade rockets that they launched outside late at night with my husband.

Even if we don't have a single place right now to do our schoolwork or eat a meal–and I am not exaggerating, it has really taken over my house–I can be nostalgic about the moments I'm in in my homeschool because it's true that I do love the leisurely mornings.

Even if I'm starting school way later than I want to, the fact that we can is a gift, right?

We went to a Shakespeare production a week or two back at a local theater. It was Macbeth. It was amazing, and we got home super late. The next morning, we just slept in and started everything later. But even if we don't do something amazing, I love that we can do that, we can just start later. I love the audiobooks and the puzzles, the read-alouds, the time.

Because of all the things that homeschooling affords a family, it's the time to read together, engage in ideas together, talk together, be together that makes a difference.

This week and next, I want to zero in on what we can do to make sure our kids are getting the clear message that we love being with them.

What are the small, easy things that you and I can do to send that very message to our kids? A message that says, I enjoy you, I love you, I love spending time with you. You're a delight. You're a gift.

This topic can be a little bit of a heavy one because I know what is probably happening in your mind. It happens in mine too. You're totally on board, but you're also realizing there are a lot of things that you've said and done in the last week, let alone the last twenty years that have not sent this message to your kids. Same.

But this is not an opportunity to beat ourselves up. There's not a single one of us right now who will be a better mother by focusing on how we've screwed up or lamenting that thing we said or the way we said it yesterday that was not sending this message. That's not what God's calling us to. I know that for sure.

So this week, what we're going to do is just notice what makes us feel loved or wanted. When you know that somebody enjoys spending time with you, what is it that happens? What do they do that makes you know that they enjoy spending time with you, that they enjoy your presence?

Just think on it. Just notice it. You don't have to write anything down. Just pay attention to it for the next week.

When you've noticed yourself feeling like, "Oh, I'm feeling enjoyed right now," whether that's by your two-year-old, your twenty-two-year-old, your husband, your best friend, the neighbor, or the cat or the dog, what is somebody else doing that makes you feel, "I'm being enjoyed, they like being with me?" 

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