Tomorrow's the day - Mother's Day. For me, Mother's Day is the last holiday in a line of almost constant gift-expectation holidays for me starting with Valentine's Day (V-Day) in February, my birthday in March (B-Day), our wedding anniversary in April (A-Day), and now M-Day. I should be ashamed to tell you, but I always hope that something special will happen on any or all of these holidays, but on Mother's Day maybe I hope for that more than the other days. Maybe that's because I have several children - which translates in my mind to several chances that one of those children might remember and think of something to make, write, or draw that doesn't necessarily consist of a hurriedly scratched out smiley face on a sheet of printer paper at 8:30 PM on Mother's Day. Why? I think it's also why I secretly think that, because I have more children than average, I have a better-than-average chance of one of my children growing up to be a world changer... you know: President (not that I would wish that on anyone), Curer of Cancer, Astronaut (although, I guess they'd have to move to Russia to do that now), etc. You get what I'm saying.
I try to convince myself that my "love language" is not receiving of gifts. After all, I've gotten bib overalls, a humidifier, and the ever-popular bath products as gifts in the past. Material gifts and I don't have a pleasant history. I remember our first married Christmas together. Mark agonized over what to get me and returned from an hours-long shopping trip with a seriously obvious, seriously gigantic basket of Walmart bath products. When a person is able to purchase the equivalent of 5 gallons of bath soaps, gels, lotions, sprays, and salts for $19.97... I'm fairly certain said products might be capable of inducing a $50 dermatologist appointment.
As I write this, I am thinking back on my gift-receiving history, and (aside from times I've told a person exactly what I hoped to receive) I can't honestly think of a single gift that left a seriously good impression on me. Am I just surrounded by bad gift givers? Does nobody understand me? Does nobody care? Ridiculous. The ugly truth is this: I am a bad gift receiver. Admiting even to myself that I might expect even a "Happy Mother's Day" from my sweet, blessed offspring is disgusting to me. I don't have a right to expect immature persons whom I love unconditionally to please me in any way. Their very existence is a blessing that pleases me beyond words. I don't have needs that I need my children need to fulfill. Do I?
Mother - by definition is a "need filler" position. It's a selfless occupation. It is a thankless job. That is what makes it so unique... so precious... so necessary.
My own sweet mother is self-sacrificial to a fault. She always has been - from my earliest remembrance. I hope my own children remember me that way someday. She taught me some things about motherhood. Some of those things just since I've become a mother myself: 1) Never let your kids win an argument. 2) Never show them emotions that communicate weakness.
I think these are two very interesting things. I think some people might balk at them and think they're not nurturing attitudes, but... I think I know why she said those things. Now that I have children who are old enough to want to argue with me, I understand why she said that they can't be allowed to "win" an argument. When a child gets the impression he/she is smarter or more capable than a parent, and/or that the parent needs the child for any reason, the roles are reversed and the child ends up, at best, insecure. At worst, the child ends up arrogant, selfish, and manipulative. I would go one step further and say that our kids are not allowed to argue with us. They are allowed to respectfully question and discuss a decision we've made as parents, but this creates an atmosphere where everyone is heard and no one "loses". Full communication ends in shared understanding, and that is a win/win for everyone. I find myself doing a lot more explaining about they "whys" of our decision making as parents than I ever remember receiving from my parents. (It's likely I just don't remember.) When it comes to communicating parental weakness to a child, I think back to an incident in which one of my girls' dad called her and cried to her over the phone because of some personal problems he was having at the time. When she handed the phone back to me, she was scared, worried for him, and desperate to help him - even though he was 100 miles away. However, being a child, she was completely unable to rescue him from his circumstances and was made very insecure for having been put in a position in which she felt she had to buoy him somehow. When children feel we are dependent upon them to give us love, security, companionship, or anything else, they become unduly burdened with adult responsibilities which they aren't equipped emotionally, physically, or materially to handle.
Enter something different... I've discovered more and more in just the past few years that my children are exquisitely happy in the confidence that, although I don't need them for companionship, I want them for my companions. I try to make them certain of the fact that, although I don't need them to do my work for or with me, I want to work alongside them for the sake of pure enjoyment of their presence. I think this is the critical accompaniment to my mom's advice to me about not being rawly vulnerable to my children when it comes to my needs/wants/emotions. Vulnerability is crucial - but only in the sense that genuineness teaches them about our own humanity without communicating neediness to the child.
I've been reading a book called Satisfy My Thirsty Soul by Linda Dillow. In it, she discusses the importance of using our words in true and genuine communication, and I've been convicted that my words to the kids need to be encouraging. I am reminded that trite compliments like, "You're pretty"; "You're awesome", or "You're the greatest kid in the world" do not feed my children's needs to feel uniquely precious and valuable to me specifically. Just as a hurriedly scribbled card doesn't make me feel particularly appreciated as a mother, a rushed and thoughtless compliment doesn't ascribe true worth to the child but rather superficial, economical, "bargain basement" worth. Dillow's book specifically speaks to how we address God - ascribing to him superficial compliments that are not well researched or thought-out. Just as with earthly parents, God does not need anything from His children. He doesn't need our worship. He doesn't need our good deeds. He doesn't need our ministry. He doesn't need our hearts. He doesn't need our relationship with him. He doesn't need us to answer an altar call or get baptized. He is fullness of all within Himself - no help required.
Colossians 1:16-18 says, "16 For by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things have been created through Him and for Him. 17 He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. 18 He is also head of the body, the church; and He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that He Himself will come to have first place in everything.
Further, John 1:1-4 states, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being. 4 In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men.
It is clear to me from these verses that God is complete without any of my petty offerings. However, just as I don't need love, attention, protection, or anything else from my children but instead desire those things as part of our growing relationship, God also desires that we would be a part of Him and has made every effort necessary to make that happen. He needs nothing of me but challenges me to give Him everything I have and all of who I am in order that He might be glorified and I might be fulfilled in the deepest sense humanly possible.
So as I approach tomorrow (now two minutes away), I am faced with the fact that the words and languages of man can only give God a pittance of what He truly deserves... that my deepest thoughts about and love toward Him could not make Him feel anymore loved or fulfilled or desired - because He is full in a way we can never understand this side of heaven. I am mindful that I scribble out a "smiley face card" to Him daily in my short times of prayer or praise when I could offer Him service and sacrifice more pleasant. I am certain that the part of a mother that toils and sacrifices thanklessly is a breathtakingly beautiful reflection of a God Who knows nothing but toil and sacrifice on behalf of thankless offspring.
I am deeply humbled that God has allowed me to mother five, delightful, precious, and unspeakably dear children who are far beyond my capacities to love and act selflessly. I am thankful that I can learn from them. I can hardly wait to see what God has in store for their lives. They are already world-changers, and I expect Him to finish the work He's started in them and, by His grace, in me.
I try to convince myself that my "love language" is not receiving of gifts. After all, I've gotten bib overalls, a humidifier, and the ever-popular bath products as gifts in the past. Material gifts and I don't have a pleasant history. I remember our first married Christmas together. Mark agonized over what to get me and returned from an hours-long shopping trip with a seriously obvious, seriously gigantic basket of Walmart bath products. When a person is able to purchase the equivalent of 5 gallons of bath soaps, gels, lotions, sprays, and salts for $19.97... I'm fairly certain said products might be capable of inducing a $50 dermatologist appointment.
As I write this, I am thinking back on my gift-receiving history, and (aside from times I've told a person exactly what I hoped to receive) I can't honestly think of a single gift that left a seriously good impression on me. Am I just surrounded by bad gift givers? Does nobody understand me? Does nobody care? Ridiculous. The ugly truth is this: I am a bad gift receiver. Admiting even to myself that I might expect even a "Happy Mother's Day" from my sweet, blessed offspring is disgusting to me. I don't have a right to expect immature persons whom I love unconditionally to please me in any way. Their very existence is a blessing that pleases me beyond words. I don't have needs that I need my children need to fulfill. Do I?
Mother - by definition is a "need filler" position. It's a selfless occupation. It is a thankless job. That is what makes it so unique... so precious... so necessary.
My own sweet mother is self-sacrificial to a fault. She always has been - from my earliest remembrance. I hope my own children remember me that way someday. She taught me some things about motherhood. Some of those things just since I've become a mother myself: 1) Never let your kids win an argument. 2) Never show them emotions that communicate weakness.
I think these are two very interesting things. I think some people might balk at them and think they're not nurturing attitudes, but... I think I know why she said those things. Now that I have children who are old enough to want to argue with me, I understand why she said that they can't be allowed to "win" an argument. When a child gets the impression he/she is smarter or more capable than a parent, and/or that the parent needs the child for any reason, the roles are reversed and the child ends up, at best, insecure. At worst, the child ends up arrogant, selfish, and manipulative. I would go one step further and say that our kids are not allowed to argue with us. They are allowed to respectfully question and discuss a decision we've made as parents, but this creates an atmosphere where everyone is heard and no one "loses". Full communication ends in shared understanding, and that is a win/win for everyone. I find myself doing a lot more explaining about they "whys" of our decision making as parents than I ever remember receiving from my parents. (It's likely I just don't remember.) When it comes to communicating parental weakness to a child, I think back to an incident in which one of my girls' dad called her and cried to her over the phone because of some personal problems he was having at the time. When she handed the phone back to me, she was scared, worried for him, and desperate to help him - even though he was 100 miles away. However, being a child, she was completely unable to rescue him from his circumstances and was made very insecure for having been put in a position in which she felt she had to buoy him somehow. When children feel we are dependent upon them to give us love, security, companionship, or anything else, they become unduly burdened with adult responsibilities which they aren't equipped emotionally, physically, or materially to handle.
Enter something different... I've discovered more and more in just the past few years that my children are exquisitely happy in the confidence that, although I don't need them for companionship, I want them for my companions. I try to make them certain of the fact that, although I don't need them to do my work for or with me, I want to work alongside them for the sake of pure enjoyment of their presence. I think this is the critical accompaniment to my mom's advice to me about not being rawly vulnerable to my children when it comes to my needs/wants/emotions. Vulnerability is crucial - but only in the sense that genuineness teaches them about our own humanity without communicating neediness to the child.
I've been reading a book called Satisfy My Thirsty Soul by Linda Dillow. In it, she discusses the importance of using our words in true and genuine communication, and I've been convicted that my words to the kids need to be encouraging. I am reminded that trite compliments like, "You're pretty"; "You're awesome", or "You're the greatest kid in the world" do not feed my children's needs to feel uniquely precious and valuable to me specifically. Just as a hurriedly scribbled card doesn't make me feel particularly appreciated as a mother, a rushed and thoughtless compliment doesn't ascribe true worth to the child but rather superficial, economical, "bargain basement" worth. Dillow's book specifically speaks to how we address God - ascribing to him superficial compliments that are not well researched or thought-out. Just as with earthly parents, God does not need anything from His children. He doesn't need our worship. He doesn't need our good deeds. He doesn't need our ministry. He doesn't need our hearts. He doesn't need our relationship with him. He doesn't need us to answer an altar call or get baptized. He is fullness of all within Himself - no help required.
Colossians 1:16-18 says, "16 For by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things have been created through Him and for Him. 17 He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. 18 He is also head of the body, the church; and He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that He Himself will come to have first place in everything.
Further, John 1:1-4 states, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being. 4 In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men.
It is clear to me from these verses that God is complete without any of my petty offerings. However, just as I don't need love, attention, protection, or anything else from my children but instead desire those things as part of our growing relationship, God also desires that we would be a part of Him and has made every effort necessary to make that happen. He needs nothing of me but challenges me to give Him everything I have and all of who I am in order that He might be glorified and I might be fulfilled in the deepest sense humanly possible.
So as I approach tomorrow (now two minutes away), I am faced with the fact that the words and languages of man can only give God a pittance of what He truly deserves... that my deepest thoughts about and love toward Him could not make Him feel anymore loved or fulfilled or desired - because He is full in a way we can never understand this side of heaven. I am mindful that I scribble out a "smiley face card" to Him daily in my short times of prayer or praise when I could offer Him service and sacrifice more pleasant. I am certain that the part of a mother that toils and sacrifices thanklessly is a breathtakingly beautiful reflection of a God Who knows nothing but toil and sacrifice on behalf of thankless offspring.
I am deeply humbled that God has allowed me to mother five, delightful, precious, and unspeakably dear children who are far beyond my capacities to love and act selflessly. I am thankful that I can learn from them. I can hardly wait to see what God has in store for their lives. They are already world-changers, and I expect Him to finish the work He's started in them and, by His grace, in me.
