My youngest is now no longer little, as he turns eight in a month, and my heart throbs as I think of the slow transformation that has taken hold of our lives. One by one, each child passes from one year to the next, and now, we are in the season of raising children in their teens. Naturally, one might ask if one season is more tedious than another, or if one point in child-rearing is more time-consuming than another.
I must confess, I am not the one to be asked such pertinent questions, and I am also not of the opinion that one period in a child’s life at home is more important or more time-consuming than another.
I am very much aware that each age of my children has its peculiarities and specific demands on a mother’s heart, and no season has more tests and vexations than another. How I paced the halls with a sick baby in my arms, waiting until the clock rolled around to opening hours at our pediatrician’s. How I have wondered at the depth of thought and the questions posed by my dear children who had just learned to talk. How I have contemplated decisions my husband and I had made—over and over—and their effects on our children, for better or for worse. Each year gives me less time to guide the small steps of my children as they venture closer and closer to maturity and a life of making their own decisions.
Every mother is no different, I am sure. These are common griefs and thoughts we share as time slips through our busy hands.
What I am compelled to share with each mother, no matter how well-intentioned or well-versed she may be, is comfort and grace as we pour ourselves into the precious souls of those young ones in our care.
Oh, I am not at all about to extend grace where none is due. No, we must accept our faults, seek counsel when we are uncertain, and ever live in humble need of our Savior’s wisdom. For stepping outside His guidance, I cannot extend grace.
Nor are we, as human—sinful, failing—beings, capable of extending grace to ourselves. First, we know we do not deserve it. And second, any grace we have is bestowed upon us first by our Creator.
So, no, we need not consider ourselves in need of “giving ourselves grace” or “forgiving ourselves.” No—our rest lies in nothing but the ever-existing, timeless sovereignty and providence of God. It is He who designed every moment of each day before we even stepped into this world. To think we, as mothers, have influence and power of our own is our greatest fault.
It is our perception that we have the power of good influence that causes us pain when we perceive our failures, and pride when we rejoice in our success. Our influence for good in the dear lives of our children is nothing but the kindness of God—in giving us life, in giving us children, in giving us fortitude, wisdom, and discernment as we strive to depend on Him for each word that comes from our mouths and each thought that soars through our heads. It is also God’s work in the hearts of our children to give them humility to heed advice and understanding of the truths from His Word.
If we are mothers, each child in our care has been placed there on purpose—by design—by God’s all-knowing hand. It is He who gives, and He who sustains. It is He who knows that our faults and sins will hinder us in our love and upbringing of the souls He created. I fail in my mothering when I fail to acknowledge it as the gift it truly is.
Psalm 127:3 so specifically states, “Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward.” Children come from the Lord, and they are a reward from Him. So often the gift of children is overstated to the point that we no longer see the sovereign hand of the Giver in that verse. It is by Him and for Him that I have children.
If we are mothers, we also fail when we view our role as the supreme role on earth. Many a Christian mother, yes, I have fallen party to this thought and have blown my role as “mother” out of proportion—to the point that it frightens me to think what might happen to my children if I should die.
We, as mothers, fail to rest completely in God’s precious and providential work in the lives of each of our children, as though we had supreme power of God’s work in the heart of our children.
How many a wandering young man has blessed his mother for praying for him. How many young, stray souls have thanked their mothers for their unrelenting faith. Rest assured, not one of those mothers would claim her own words, her own work, or her own desire brought her children to God. And it is a guarantee that any child who comes to Christ does not come because of his or her mother, but because of the gentle, persistent work of Christ.
I fail as a mother, when I rest in myself and my influence in my children’s lives. When I idolize the role of motherhood as a superpower, I neglect to humbly beg for God to work in my children’s hearts. It is for Him they were created and it is He who is at work in them…with or without me.
“And every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence,
work out your own salvation with fear and trembling,
for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.” —Philippians 2:11–13
So my prayer is that humility will clothe my soul, and I will not rest in my thoughts, my methods of education, the boundaries and care I set up for my children, or the words I speak to them. But that I, in this temporary journey of motherhood, would commit everything to the Lord and His work. And that I would persistently and diligently beseech Him for the drawing and keeping of the dear little souls I love.
And in all, may He receive all the glory for the upbringing and care of my children.
“Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory,
for the sake of your steadfast love and your faithfulness!”
—Psalm 115:1