Yes, I'll admit it, and admit it freely. Some days with my children are extremely wearing. They have days when they do so well, and they have days when it seems like they can't listen, can't obey, can't anything. I suppose that's true of everyone, not just children, but sometimes it leaves me feeling emotionally and physically wiped out. Makes me want to go curl up in the bed and not come out until next week, but that's neither possible nor practical.
So, when that happens, I've learned that it's time to reorganize my thinking. Sometimes it takes me a little bit to remember it, but that's usually when I most need what the country singer used to call an "attitude adjustment". I have to remind myself that raising my children is not primarily about how I feel things are going. It's about me trying and trying and trying again, as many times as it takes, to teach my children the lessons they need to know to grow into the kind of men they should be. No one ever said it would be an easy task. No one ever said it would always be an enjoyable task. But it's the job I chose for myself, and it's my job to do the best I can at it.
Which got me to thinking the other day about a poem that my grandfather Glenn wrote years ago ... when my own father was only about two years old. It was called "Daddy, Fix It!", and spoke of how children look up to their fathers as being able to do it all. There was no problem too big or too small that couldn't be taken to Dad to be fixed. Broken toys or any number of other things ... the children came to him with confidence that "Dad will fix it!" The last verse of this poem, though, shifts gears ever so slightly, and compares a child's confidence in their Father to fix every problem to what our own attitude should be ... in taking our problems to God, with a plea that he help us fix it.
And so when my children can't seem to listen, and keep making the same mistakes again and again, I try to ask myself if God ever feels as impatient with me when I struggle with things in my own life, and keep fighting the same battles over and over? Does he shake his (imagined) head in disbelief at times, wondering if I'll remember to choose the right path, instead of the easy or habitual one? As I have learned, grown and matured, I have worked harder at making the right choices and being the best person I can be. I have faith that he will be compassionate when I come before him in prayer, head hanging, and tell him of some known or perceived wrong, and tell him I'm sorry, because I know he loves me and only wants what is best for me. Can I really expect that my children, in the long run, will be any different? It takes time, and it takes patience, but they learn, grow and mature every day. I am guiding them along the path that I walk, so that we can all reach the same destination.
Taking the time to stop and remember the love of my Father, reminds me to reflect that love to my children, especially on days when they least seem to "deserve" it. Because that is when they need it most. And because being a good Mother is something I am constantly trying to learn from the Father of us all.
