When We Begin To Get Over Ourselves

31 days of Good Deeds

(click here for the series)

~ Day 19 ~

I’ve been a mother for 12 years today.
Really, though, motherhood began 9 months before that (ok, we all know it’s actually 10).  When you carry the weight of the future on your bladder for any amount of time, you know the exact amount of time.  Down to the very minute.

What I didn’t know… the weight of the future was the very thing that would begin the release of the weight of my selfishness.

Motherhood.  The vessel He uses to get us over ourselves.

We enter into this place with a million preconceived notions of how we will play this whole thing out.  We step through the door holding this perfect breath from God and we think we might have a clue.  This is where it all begins.  We have no idea.  The thoughts in our minds give way to the crashing wave of pure love.  This love washes any idea of who we think we are… away.  We come face to face with someone we want to die for – again and again.  But, first, we have to die to ourselves.  And this is the rub.

The battle – my thoughts, my ideas, my wishes, my dreams collide… with His.

Holding tightly to the holy moment of birth is just the beginning of letting it all go.

This is when our hearts begin to take residence – outside of our bodies.  With each baby, over and over again, we die to ourselves… and open up to Him.  Only God would begin this slow and often painful death to our selfish natures through the birth of something so breathtakingly exquisite.  New life wrapped in the sweet aroma of innocence cradled in our unsuspecting arms.  The best of us is yet to come.

Sometimes, though, he lets us begin our journey into selfless love much earlier.  Sometimes He allows to exercise these muscles of you-before-me when we are much younger.  Perhaps even as young as 11… soon to be 12.

And, sometimes He surprises this unsuspecting mama with a story of an unselfish good deed.  A good deed that mama didn’t have to prompt or prod or produce.  Sometimes He lets us know we are doing this motherhood thing a little bit right.

I was away on a trip (a small miracle in itself, thanks to my gold-hearted warrior).  Dad decided to take our six pack to a carnival.  The bravery in that task is another story entirely.

The pumpkins, rides, and treats thrilled this young crew of ours.  Most of all, of course, the rides and slides were mission number one.

Tickets bought, treats ingested, it was time.  The kids rode and squealed and lived it up.

Our four-year-old discovered quickly that some thrills look better from the ground up.

It’s too scary! I don’t like it!

Our red-headed summer warrior shrieked.

Sometimes bravery is just knowing what you’re not ready for.  And saying so.

Tickets dwindled and energy faded.

With only a handful of tickets left to thrill these little ones, my warrior offered them one more ride.

The big kids, ready to tackle the most thrilling ride, grabbed their chance and took off.

Our normally brave little summer girl exclaimed,

But, I want to go on those swings. I’m too scared of that ride.

Daddy stood holding the baby, knowing the only way she would go was with a companion.  We don’t really want to go this alone, do we?  It’s always better with two.

The kids want to ride that one, sweetie.

Then, the part that bursts a mama heart.  All these years of do-this-don’t-do-that-be-nice-share-love-each-other.  All the refereeing of siblings.  All the times of it’s-not-about-you.  Then, this one time.  It takes root… and I wasn’t even there.  I can’t take credit (but, I can give plenty to my warrior).  I can’t even begin to think it had anything to do with what I told my boy to do.  He just did it.  And my heart explodes.

I’ll go with her, dad.

C’mon, little sister, I’ll take you on the swings.

Now, the swings… they go round and round, not up nor down.  Pretty lame for an 11, almost 12-year-old.

They spun in circles, she squealed with glee, and my heart melts.

We teach and train and cajole and plead.  We bark and bellow and beg.  We hold and hug and pour ourselves out… day after day.  Then, God.  He gives us a glimpse.  A momentary whisper of,

Job well done.

The pouring out… from a big brother to a little sister.  This.  

This whole new soul dying to self and giving to love.  And my heart wholly fills.

 

2 Thessalonians 3:13

And as for you, brothers, never tire of doing what is right.