Never a dull moment

"Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged.

They always say, 'Do it again'

and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead.

For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony.

But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony.

It is possible that God says every morning, 'Do it again' to the sun;

and every evening, 'Do it again' to the moon.

It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them.

It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we."

— G.K. Chesterton

For all the times I have to tell her not to squeal in the house, I'm thankful I'm Abby's mother.

For all the times I have to remind him not to pick up spiders, I'm thankful I'm Caleb's mother.

For all the times I have to change my shirt because he spit up on me again, I'm thankful I'm Jacob's mother.

For all the times she holds my arm and tells me she wants to keep me forever, I'm thankful I'm Abby's mother.

For all the times he sneaks up on me and snuggle pounces me from behind, I'm thankful I'm Caleb's mother.

For all the times his face lights up when I'm the first person to greet him in the morning, I'm thankful I'm Jacob's mother.

For all the times she pushes me to my limits and then asks "why?" once more, I'm thankful I'm Abby's mother.

For all the times he runs away when I ask him to come here, I'm thankful I'm Caleb's mother.

For all the times he writhes and cries and refuses his bottle, I'm thankful I'm Jacob's mother.

For all the times they lay heavy on my chest and rest their heads on my shoulder, I'm thankful for these children God has entrusted to my care for a little while. Because through all the why's and the whining, through the fun and the laughter, through the discipline and the monotony of motherhood, I'm reminded that God has uniquely gifted me to care for these specific children for reasons known only to Him. It is not for me to throw up my hands in frustration or to grow weary with the repetitive nature of parenthood, but to delight in the monotony, for though the hours may seem to drag on, the days are going by so quickly. And what I wouldn't give to have just one tiring moment with the little one I lost.

How quickly I forget that it was not just yesterday that my firstborn was placed in my arms. No, years have passed since then, in what seems like the blink of an eye, and stages that seemed as if they'd never end have come and gone. And I've survived, though at the time it often seemed so unlikely we'd ever get through this or that.

The minutes seem sometimes to tick by so slowly as I wait for a 6-month-old to finish eating, or for a two-year-old to put on his own shoes, or for a three-year-old to button her own pajamas. And when the task is done, and undone, I know we will do it again tomorrow, and the day after that.

But there will come a day when teenage boys will threaten to eat me out of house and home, and their big shoes will litter the garage. And the little girl in the frog pajamas will be replaced by one who won't care for my praise when she gets herself dressed.

So on this mother's day, I pray the Lord will help me to exult in the monotony of my days, and to always remember what a great honor and privilege it is to be raising these little children He's given me. I pray that He will be glorified where I succeed, and that His grace will be evident where I fail, so that one day my children will look back and know the hope that was within me as I tried to raise them right.