“Mommy, I want to laugh about things”

slattery2017-53.jpg
She grabs the hem of my shirt after I kiss her goodnight.  She pulls me close and says “Mommy, I want to laugh about things. ”

 

Maybe she wants me to recount a silly moment from our day, or let her give me a kiss on the tip of my nose. Maybe I tickle her under her chin, or we spend a couple minutes talking in funny voices about how we are big brown bears getting ready for hibernation…

 

This daughter of mine doesn’t particularly mind how it happens, but she reaches for me to just linger a while.

 

She wants us both to giggle – to be equally delighted in a moment together.

 

This is my little one’s way of bidding for connection with me. She doesn’t just want books and hugs and kisses and prayers.  She doesn’t want a cookie cutter bedtime routine, alongside of her siblings, but a unique and personal, secret and special moment of connection.

 

She wants to know that her daddy and I find her captivating, that we relish in her enough to laugh out loud.

 

Somehow this bid catches my attention unlike the other nightly requests for a sip of water or one more kiss. Somehow this one pierces me to the middle – perhaps because I can see the cry of my own heart tucked inside of her sweet plea.

 

I see my own heart wrestle through the truth that I know with the ache I have felt…Jesus loves me! And he loves you! Hallelujah!

 

But don’t we all want to feel it in just a bit more of a personal way? Don’t we all want to be the apple of another’s eye? To be liked? Enjoyed? Delighted in? Laughed with? For the simple look of us to bring someone deep pleasure?

 

And isn’t this ultimately the cry of my heart with my Heavenly Father, that He would take pleasure in me, and that I could feel it?  And that I could take pleasure in Him, too?  That his eyes on me and his delighted smile would fill me with confidence and joy?

It is so unbelievably easy to find delight in these precious children of mine.  All I have to do is stop moving for a few moments and watch them, and the joy wells up and bubbles over, and I can feel my pleasure pasted all over my face.

 

But what is blowing my mind each time I hear this precious bid from this tiny princess, is to think how much more our perfect Father God must be flooded with delight in looking on the faces and hearts of his children…to picture God as a heavenly parent, is to picture a shameless, delighted smile on His holy face.

 

This week, I’m busting open my imagination to consider that my Father God looks at me more tenderly than even the most loving mama or daddy.

 

Maybe my Abba Father giggles to himself as he watches me try something new.

 

Maybe His joy gushes over with laughter each time he sees me remember something He’s told me, and choose to walk in it.

 

Maybe my smile alone quickens his pulse.

 

Maybe He hates to see me skin my knee but revels in holding me tight and binding me up when I run to Him for comfort. Maybe He feels like I do, that it is a sacred and delightful privilege to be a Comforter.

 

Maybe a squinty-eyed grin comes over His face when He sees me stumble and get back up again…when he sees me smile brave.

 

Maybe he sometimes likes to watch me sleep.  Maybe he can’t help it because he’s so enchanted by the curves of my face.

“Jesus, I want to laugh about things…with You.” I want to experience that deep and joyful and personal connection with your Spirit, again and again.

 

And I want to usher my children not only into the delight of their mama and daddy, but into Your tender and glorious pleasure.

 

May our homes be so filled with your Spirit, right in the midst of these everyday moments, that our joy bubbles over and our walls ring with laughter.

 

Delight yourself in the Lord,
    and he will give you the desires of your heart. Psalm 37: 4
 

 

The deep satisfaction of giving it all away

IMG_1179

Everyone is buckled into the minivan, and for a moment, I just breathe.

I linger in the garage doorway and search the crevices of my mind for forgotten tasks and items.  I can’t remember the last morning we didn’t forget something, but my overloaded brain doesn’t seem capable of doing anything other than recovering from the chaos of the last 40 minutes.  
I’m pretty sure one or two of the kids never actually ate any of their breakfast, and I know for certain that I didn’t brush the baby’s teeth.  I hope, but probably won’t ask, whether or not everyone is wearing socks under their shoes.  

I shove one last sippy cup into my giant tote, along with a pair of sneakers for the littlest, whose bare little toes I recall kissing as I buckled him into his carseat.  I’m quite certain today will be the day the straps finally break on this bag, hanging over my right shoulder – the one that’s been serving quadruple duty as purse, diaper bag, pantry, and fix-all treasure chest.  

I grab my coffee in my other hand, and my sunglasses between my lips, and open the door to the garage, where my little ones have been waiting for approximately seventeen seconds.  

Before I even have the door fully opened, I hear a chorus of “Mommy!” and the names of those who need to be tattled on.  I decipher a request for music and a few desperate pleas for food and water, though the only thing we’ve done since breakfast is get into the car.  

How can there be this many problems by 8am?  How can I be tired already?  

I’m just now glancing in the mirror for the first time of the morning, and I’m thankful to find a hairband around my wrist to throw my mess of hair into a high bun.  

Friends, this motherhood thing is no joke.  Full and abundant, relentless and exhausting. It’s no wonder so many mamas can’t seem to stop the complaining from spilling out of their mouths, whenever they happen upon a listening ear.  

A handful of years ago, I found myself stumbling into stay-at-home motherhood, and subsequently, into playgroups and mommy meet-ups.  I found myself frustrated and confused that we all seemed to sit around talking about how little sleep we got or how long our husband’s work hours were, or how strong-willed our child was, as if it might make us feel better if we won the medal for “Hardest life.”  I was frustrated with other moms, and I was frustrated with myself, for going right along with the negativity.  I knew we should be more grateful, but it was also nice to connect with others who “get it.”

I absolutely adored my children, and often times the negative words leaking from my mouth didn’t even feel true.  I was just grasping at an opportunity to be seen in what I was working so hard to do, but for which the world seemed to have no words or appreciation.  

In that season, part of me still believed that the menial tasks of motherhood were beneath me.  I thought I should be doing something bigger or more impressive.  Or at least doing this “small” job more perfectly.  Yet, another part of me felt like being a stay-at-home mom was the most difficult thing I had ever done.

Though I knew that I knew that I knew that my children were an absolute gift, on many days, I found myself falling into a puddle of self-pity.  

I felt sorry for myself for not being understood.  I felt sorry for myself that I had nothing to show for the soul-crushing day I had just survived.  I felt sorry for myself that I was giving and giving, even when I was tired, or sick, or sad, or lonely.  I felt sorry for myself for the emptiness I felt, even when my home was full of adorable little faces.

More than anything, I felt deeply ashamed of my ingratitude.  Right alongside friends longing for a family or struggling to get pregnant, or wishing to be home with their children more, I often looked at my children and felt unworthy to be their mama, wondering why the mere look of them wasn’t filling my life with total joy and satisfaction.

At some point, I determined I must be missing something.  This simply could not be it.  This could not be God’s heart and desire for me.  

I didn’t want to be like the grandmas in the grocery store who tell me to soak it up because this is the best time of my life.  I didn’t want to tell every new mom for the rest of my life that it’s going to go way too fast.  I didn’t want to just survive this, and then regret all that I missed by not figuring out how to love it while it was happening.  I didn’t want to fill up photo albums to create memories of things that I didn’t actually enjoy very much.  

I wanted to live these moments.  I wanted to soak them up in a way that changed me. 

I began to wonder what would happen if I just stopped giving everything to my family begrudgingly, and started giving as if this was all I was ever meant to do.  I had always loved long snuggles and bedtime stories, but what if I gave the same energy to laundry and diapers, and arguments and bad attitudes? 

What if I poured my energy into, not just the fun moments of parenting, but all of these in-between mundane moments, as if these days were the only ones I’d bring before the throne of Christ, at the end of my life?

I began to have eyes to see all of the ways that I had been grasping to keep my life in tact…I rolled my eyes at the messes, because I was trying to preserve my dignity.  When a child was disrespectful, I crossed my arms repulsed, because I was trying to preserve my pride.  After a certain amount of work, I began to function out of this thinking that I really deserved a break, because I was trying to preserve my comfort.  I sputtered awkward answers at a cocktail party about what I did other than “stay at home” because I was trying to preserve my relevance in the world.  I was bitter about being late because I was trying to preserve my image as a dependable, punctual, responsible adult.  

I began to wonder what it would feel like to treat my children like the vulnerable Least of These Jesus talked about, and to give it all away with reckless abandon.  What if I simply threw my life into this thing the Lord has given me to do —  not neglecting self-care, but abandoning myself to be poured out — and let the Lord give me his abundance, right in the middle of the mess?  

For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it.  Matthew 16: 25

As I threw off my fears of keeping it all together, and let motherhood get a bit messier, giving when I had nothing left, because I chose to believe God gave me each of these little things to do, I began to find the life I had been so afraid to lose.  I found purpose inside of my own four walls, and deep joy in the middle of chaos.  I found myself delighting in my children, not just in the peaceful and sweet spaces, but in the disheveled and unpredictable ones, too.  I began to find abundance in the emptiest moments, energy in the midst of sleep deprivation, fun in the middle of work, and worship in the middle of mundane.  And I found deep satisfaction in the in-between, invisible, far from Instagram-worthy moments that only God could see.  

I began to discover the heart of God to fill us up as we are poured out, and to let us share in lavish resurrection living as we share in the death of Christ by abandoning our preferences, pride, comfort and convenience.  

No matter what your day-to-day looks like, sister, whether you are a stay-at-home mama, or you are juggling work and home, whether you have tiny ones or teenagers, be encouraged that God’s heart is to strengthen you out of his glorious riches, with power through his Spirit in your inner being. (Eph 3: 16). 

As we pour our lives out in places where we can’t receive back… As we offer forgiveness seventy times seven times… As we let our lives be poured out like a drink offering… As we choose to release our pride, our comfort, our lives to whatever little tasks are put before us… we see the abundant grace of God multiply in our hearts and homes.