who is she?
Her heart is full of another world, even when her hands are most busy about this world.
Yesterday in the car, my son and I were having a conversation about fear. He was struggling with something and I was telling him that being brave isn't the absence of fear. I told him that every time he does the thing he is afraid to do, he is being brave; and after a while he'll start to realize that the fear isn't that big a deal anymore. And that one day, that thing he was at first truly frightened to do, will be relatively easy. I reminded him about the first few attempts at riding his bike without his training wheels; he was so scared we had to put them back on for a couple of months. Then we took them off again, and he was brave. Now he flies like the wind on that bike.
I told him, that God never gave us a spirit of fear. That Jesus dwells in His heart because he is a little boy who has believed in Him. That means He was never alone, and could call on God 24/7 for strength, and courage. He listened intently, albeit through tears as he was contemplating the fearsome thing he had to do. Then we said a quick prayer.
Later in the day, on the way home, he said to me, " Mama, today I was brave. And I even prayed in my heart for God to help me."
My throat constricted with emotion. I asked, "Did God help you?"
"Yes mama. He did. I wasn't scared anymore."
A lone tear escaped and fell onto my shirt. This was the zenith of parenting. When, not only does your child listen to you teach them about the Lord, but they speak about Him as their own God. These moments of glorious revelation are more precious than gold to me. Still, there was the slightest hue of pride making broad streaks across my heart's canvas. Pride, in my motherhood. A kind of "I have this thing down" smirking on the inside.
It didn't last. God dealt with it immediately.
Tito asked me, "Mama, are you ever afraid?".
The question took me aback. I was quiet for a bit, wondering if I should be vulnerable with my four year old, or whether I should give him an honest but shallow answer, like, "I'm afraid of spiders." I felt then, a deep certainty that I should be real with him. Without much contemplation, the answer came easily, and it really surprised me.
"Yes love. Some days, I'm afraid that I won't be a good enough mama to you and your sister. I don't want to fail you."
The words just hang there in the open space between us in the car; I took a sharp breath, wanting to draw them back in. I felt exposed, naked almost. Like someone had ripped off my superhero cape and mask, and now he was going to see that I was really not much of a super-mom. I looked at him through the rear-view mirror. He was seated relaxed in his car seat, looking out the window at the moving world. I fully expected him to reassure me that I'm a great mama, and he loves me and we'd then crank up the volume and bob our heads to Sauti Sol. But no.
Without turning his head, the boy calmly said, "OK. You need to pray about that."
End of conversation.
Wow. It was a shock. A toddler had given me the solution I had staring me in the face, every minute of every day: PRAY. All the advice I had given him earlier in the day, about bravery, strength, courage, Christ living inside us...I wasn't living it. Especially not as a mom.
This is the topic I want to focus on in this new series. The Christian mother. Who is she? What does she look like? What does her home look like? Her kids, how do they behave? What are her motivations, what drives her today in this world in 2017?
Stay with me as God helps The Orchid Blooms tear down idols, shatter myths and build a house on a solid foundation.
What another genuine, heartfelt, and blessed read😀.. thanks my friend 😘
Love the post:-)
This is so good! Asante.
But you are a phenomenal writer!!
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Christian, wife, mom, doctor, and an alien on earth, on my way to the city of God.