Growing up, my mother had a wall hanging that read “God, grant me the patience to endure my blessings.” Or maybe it was a magnet. Regardless, I never understood it. Even when I first became a mom myself I didn’t quite understand. My precious baby boy who never cried was such a treat I couldn’t imagine why anyone would feel the need to cry out for patience in dealing with such a blessing, though I did quickly learn to appreciate the feeling of complete exhaustion! Then that precious baby boy grew into a quick witted, stubborn, three-year-old boy with the added frustration of a speech delay. As many of my friends are also learning, three-year-old boys are strange and difficult creatures. And we had a second baby who was not quite the treat her older brother had been. He rarely cried as an infant; she never stopped! And as she’s grown she’s become the most precocious fire-cracker of a 16-month-old I’ve ever met. I don’t think she realizes she’s 16-months-old; rather, I think she believes she’s 5, or maybe 13. I love, love, love these children. With everything that I am. And yet, days when I can’t rest because every time I try they see some sign that reads “It’s time to jump all over mom time!”, or days when my little boy’s face is totally vacant while I try to explain to him why he can’t hit his sister or shove my library card in the DVD player and no form of discipline seems to get through to him, or days (or nights!) when my little girl throws tantrum after tantrum after tantrum because she can’t do something her big brother can do or because she’s not getting her way I finally, really understand that sign in my mother’s kitchen. They are enormous blessings and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. They are also enormous challenges. I know without a shadow of a doubt that God gave me honour of raising these particular children for a purpose. He has big plans for their strong and busy personalities, and he believed that I could best prepare them for those big plans. And I know that he will grant me the patience, and the strength, to deal with these blessings. I also know I often fall short of the mark, that I run out of patience too soon and maybe some days I don’t give them enough of myself (though that may simply be guilty-mom-for-no-reason syndrome). And I know that I’m not alone. Not alone because my mother before me went through what I’m going through now; not alone because so many of my friends are going through the same daily struggles (and what a great source of comfort Facebook and other mom blogs have become as we all trudge through this adventure together!); not alone because God’s pouring out of strength and patience won’t run out so long as I continue to lean on him. And I know that this has been little more than a mommy venting, but I hope it will maybe be a source of comfort and encouragement to friends (or strangers) who are finding themselves also needing to cry out for patience to endure their little blessings and need to hear that they aren’t alone in this either!
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