The other night my boys and I were sitting down to dinner as my husband entered the room. My three-year-old looked up and said, “Daddy, come enjoy us!”
I love puns, but this one stood out to me because it revealed the heart of my child.
I often miss out on enjoying my children as I herd them from one errand to another. Most of the time I join them but don’t enjoy them. Why aren’t those words synonyms for me as a mom?
Maybe it’s because no matter what I get done, there’s always more to do; more that I think I should have done; more that I think I should be. And there’s guilt over all that I have yet to do. That’s how it happens – my kids become roadblocks.
But when I stop keeping-up-with-the-Joneses and trying to be like June Cleaver, and I really look at my kids, I see their desire for me to enjoy them – to delight in them. It’s then that I ask myself if my agenda is really that important, and if the floor is really too dirty.
No comments:
Post a Comment