I was the one who would show up in a fancy dress and sneakers. I remember my mom telling me how my kindergarten teacher made the comment that I would come to school so cute and by the end of the day…well, I wouldn't be. I played tag hard and tumbled, and raced across monkey bars. I never cared if my shoes got dirty or if my hair was still braided, or if red Kool-Aid stained my new light-blue dress.
But I am realizing more and more that my inability to accessorize is hindering my joy with my kids. When I should wear the hat of "playful mom", I sometimes am too busy ironing out the wrinkles in our homeschool plan to place the hat on my head. When a chance at big messes arise – the kind that need big aprons to catch the creativity, I sometimes opt for a simpler outfit of clean tables and floors and paint left in the bottles of the craft closet. When I should adorn myself with the pearls of wisdom flowing from the mouths of these babes thrust down from heaven, I cast off their insights and my neck remains bare…..
Sometimes I wonder why the Lord doesn't speak louder, shout really – like I have done when the kids haven't listened for the third time. He is so patient with me, this messy child of God trying to figure out how to bathe richly in His grace….
He stirs in the quiet, and prompts me in the mess.
I reach over, and finally put the right hat on – the one that makes cardboard swords and play-fights with the three and five-year-old. Even the littlest one joins in. We turn the music up loud and dance and I remember this all is a moment, and we have to get dressed for this ball of life – this fleeting dance, where we all are destined for the King.
I put the "playful mom" hat down where I can find it fast for the next time the oldest asks to draw pictures and the boy-growing-fast wants to play ball. Yes. I can hear the music, and I will dance. His grace-dripping tune plays softly – lures me deeper, to Him who is all.
At the foot of the cross,
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