Passionate Kisses

I have three awesome kids. Being their mom has been such a pleasure and an enormous avenue God has used for my sanctification. And here’s the but: Sometimes it is exhausting. As much as I adore those little boogers, when I’m caught in the war zone of “mom” shrapnel, I long for a peaceful moment to complete a thought in my own head. Do your kids do that? “Mom!” “Mom can I…,” “Mom, Zaidee flicked me in the eye…,” “But, Mom, you said…” Sometimes I just answer with, “Mommy has expired now.” And then I feel guilty. How can I be so unthankful? God has blessed me with wonderful children, and I am cringing at the very word that defines my role. I think that right there is the issue. I can get so caught up in being the best mom for my kids, that it is a crushing disappointment when I realize I’m no Mom-of-the-Year. But God didn’t give my kids Mom-of-the-Year. He gave them me. And I am more than just my kid’s mother—as great as that privilege may be. When I utterly align my identity into Mama Byrd, my kids lose out. Often, in these situations a Mary Chapin Carpenter song comes to mind:
Is it too much to demand
I want a full house and a rock and roll band
Pens that won't run out of ink
And cool quiet and time to think
Shouldn't I have this
Shouldn't I have this
Shouldn't I have all of this, and
Passionate kisses
Passionate kisses, whoa oh oh
Passionate kisses from you
When my identity is in motherhood and I’m doing it well, I expect that I’m owed. I might not want a rock and roll band (although that would be cool), but I start thinking it is my right for pens that don’t run out of ink, cool quiet, time to think, and definitely passionate kisses from my husbee. And if I don’t get these things, it’s poor, pitiful me. They are good things, aren’t they? Yes, they are! And I have high standards for good-kissing-husbands and silky-flowing-ink. But these high standards flow from the fact that my kids thankfully don’t have Mother-of-the-Year. They have me, mom-in-Christ. Since my ultimate identity is in him, I have a proper view of my own depravity and his loving intercession. As one who was in enmity against God, I can offer my children the grace that he irresistibly offered to me in his Son, Jesus Christ. And it’s not too much to ask for cool quiet and time to think. In fact, I need that—I long for it. When my eye starts twitching from the “mom” shrapnel, my mind reminds me of the arsenal supplied to me from those times. God’s holy Word in the Bible, books and articles about him, sermons, prayer, believing friends and family, a church body…they aren’t my right, but they are all part of the inheritance God has supplied me with in these last days. They point me towards the blessed inheritance we will receive as heirs in Christ. So many people ask me how I find the time to do all my reading. I don’t really think I read enough. I long to read more. I encourage everyone to read more and think more. And I don’t think it’s too much to ask. Sure, I know what many of my friends are saying; being a mom is a very demanding job. As I’m feeling exhausted from all the interruptions, I’m reminded of the greatest interruption. That is the gospel. Everyday I need to be told the good news of Christ’s accomplishment. It interrupts me while I’m busy trying to rack up a grand list of my own accomplishments. The “mom” shrapnel reminds me that I am weak. In Christ, I can boast in my weakness. I might not always have time to think, but I can rest in the One who took all my shrapnel and gave me his inheritance in return. It’s way too much to ask, but he gave it to me anyway. Now that’s passionate! Related Articles: Housewives and Paychecks, Mom of the Year, The Best Part of Waking Up