On #mothergood

I’ve been thinking some more on this whole concept of mothergood. So much so, I want to declare it a movement. Even if it’s just me moving.

When I think about what it means to mothergood, it’s more than just being supermom. In fact, it’s NOT being supermom at all. It’s not about having the perfect home or perfect kids. Rather, it is about finding joy in being a mom, about serving our families in the way God has equipped us to without worrying about what others are doing and if we measure up to those standards, about raising our kids to be followers and lovers of Jesus.

If I could, I’d take all the books and articles and pins that make us moms feel less than, that make us feel like we are failing because we aren’t doing all those things someone else says we should do, and I would toss them out with last week’s leftovers that no one wanted even when they were fresh. I’m tired of striving to do, when God has called us to be.

Be women who love Him with all our hearts and souls and minds. And when we don’t, be women who come to Him with repentance.

Be mothers who love our kids with the kind of love He offers us – unconditional, just, true. The kind of love that offers itself even in moments of incredible trial, that drives us to our knees in prayer and praise when we really just want to give up.

Be women less concerned with what the world tells us and more with what God tells us. Women with eyes fixed on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, the One who died while we were still sinners because of His great love for us.

We mothergood when we follow the One who is good. When we say no to the joy stealers and yes to the Joy-Giver.

Our kids won’t be perfect, but then neither will we. But the glory we will bring Him will cover over our failings like nothing else.

I want to mothergood.

Five Minute Friday: Messenger

I see the look in his eyes after I have unleashed my mother’s fury on him, this boy who tries my patience like no other child. I am frustrated, I am heartbroken, and I am done.

But his eyes, they tell me so much more than this moment being one of rebellion. There’s remorse, pain, fear, and a plea for love and understanding.

I see the look on his face after he brings the house down with his music. Proud, with eyes searching for mine, wanting to know I am proud, too.

This boy, this child of my heart, my firstborn son has the ability to drive me to my knees more often than I have ever before. I long for him to know God, to know he is loved by Him more than he can even imagine.

But his ten year old heart needs to know I love him, too. And in these days where it seems like we are battling wills more often than not, I can see that need growing.

I long to convey God’s love and acceptance to my son, and it starts with my own words and actions.

I go to my son, this child of my heart, and I tell him I am sorry. That I love him. That I am so very, very proud he is mine.

And I see relief and a belief that God loves, too.

Linking for Five Minute Friday.