What I Never Thought

What I never thought about several years ago-- telling my son to "just take my car" to basketball practice when the roads are covered in snow.


What I never thought about when babies were sleeping soundly in their bassinet next to my bed-- falling into bedtimes without a goodnight, just a quick "time for bed", hollered up the stairs.

What I never thought about when I was up to my elbows in toys and clothes and packs of diapers-- packing up the last of the baby clothes for good--or at least, for a long season of growing kids up until their kids need them.

What I never thought about when I was thirty, that when I was forty, my heart would hurt at the faint memories of baby curls and squeals of glee and jibber jabber with Disney Junior playing in the background.

What I never thought about...I wish I had--because then maybe, I wouldn't have wanted it to go by so quickly.

And maybe it wouldn't have.

And maybe I'd handle all this growing up a little better.

Who am I, that I should..?

Moses asked this very question, "Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh, and that I should bring the
sons of Israel out of Egypt?"

He asked it to the Maker of the Universe. How inadequate he must have felt to do such a task. And while his task seems greater than any that I might ever be asked...I understand his sense of inadequacy.

I understand it from the side of my daughter's bed at night, admiring her freckled nose, and watching her bright eyes gently closing, and grasping the potential of so much greatness that I can hardly catch my breath...and I am her mom. I am the one who will guide her, model the woman she might become.  Who am I, that I should be trusted to be that person in her life?

I understand it when I sit in the living room and my high schooler excitedly rambles on and on about his fitness routine, his aspirations for the next season of ball, his hopes and dreams and...sometimes his own insecurities. Who am I, to pour goodness and encouragement in such a motivated creature as my son?

I understand it when my youngest son begins to share his opinions on great big world things, and his intelligence casts shadows over mine, and his passion for change is the same as mine once was as a young adult...and he's eleven. Who am I, to have the words to give room for his opinions, to allow him to think uniquely, to not impose my own point-of-view that would shape a bias in his life?

And I especially understand it when my child is sick, and I lose patience with the whining, and I give him all the comforts in my limited knowledge, then walk away from his misery, saying "this is all we can do" and I don't affirm him when I should, nor take him seriously...until it's serious. Who am I, to be trusted with nurturing and caring for these little people?

I am so human, it's debilitating. I am so flawed, mistakes are inevitable. I am so selfish that sometimes my nose is usually the only point I see clearly.

I am so...

...exactly like the men and women who God used to carry out His plan. I am nothing, and He is everything. In spite of that, He chose me for purposes that I consider treasures above any thing or desire. I am a mother, and a writer. I am a wife, and a friend.

Who am I? I am called. And I can only live out my calling trusting that it really is up to Him why I should.