Raising children is messy business.
The house is messy.
My thoughts are messy.
Getting everyone organised and dressed and out of the house can be a tall order on some days.
Resolving sibling fights gives me a headache (and sometimes a sore throat because I have to yell louder than they do.)
Trying to keep track of what I hope to accomplish and teach each one of them (at their varying stages of development) can induce a terrible migraine.
Parenthood is messy business, almost like running a farm. Amidst the poop, the spills, and the drools, there is also a little boy running amok and trying to clobber his brother with a plastic hammer.
It can be tiring, and madly frustrating.
But it can also be unpredictably fun, in a side-splitting kind of way.
I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as much as I do now. I don’t think I’ve ever thought to myself “how incredibly blessed I am” as often as I do now too. Granted, this happens only after the kids are in bed and are unable to argue with me or drive me up the wall. (Which is also why I like to gaze at them sleeping – it’s a healing process for my tired soul.)
My life is filled to overflowing, if only I would pause long enough to see it.
In the bible there is a proverb that goes, “Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox.” In context, it’s saying that you can enjoy a clean and tidy farm if you have no oxen or animals inside. But without animals to plough and work the field, it will be hard to enjoy a good harvest.
Any worthy pursuit in life requires hard work and sacrifice. And you can be sure that raising the next generation is a worthy pursuit.
It may look like just one big mayhem at the moment, but I choose to believe there is a purpose to the mess.
With each messy fight, they are learning about how to use and curb their strength. How to socialise with another human being.
With each messy fall, they learn how to pick themselves up, and how to receive comfort, only to be able to give that same comfort to others who fall too.
With each messy meltdown, they learn how much it means to be accepted and loved even when they lose control.
I often wonder wistfully at that career I’ve left behind. At all my ex colleagues who have progressed up the ladder. At the possibilities that could have been. But I realise that only distracts me from loving and serving my family at this very moment. That only subtracts from my already limited energy. Thinking about all those what could have beens disheartens me.
So I switch gears.
I think about the time I have on my hands now. I think about every new day as a gift. I think about the possibilities and ways to invest in building the right foundation in my kids. And hopefully, by some grace that is larger than mine, I’ll be able to wake up to brighter and more peaceful mornings in the years to come.
Parenting is like working the field. Without the messiness of falls, tears, failures, and difficulties, there can be no beauty, strength, and resilience in later life. Without the sowing of today, there can be no fruit tomorrow.
Even on a teary and messy today, may we stop and give thanks for our little ones. And see them for who they really are – little blessings from God given to us to hug, cherish, and be stewards over for a time.
In spite of the mess they bring to our lives. Or perhaps because of it.
PS. A Pancake Princess just wrote about how we can’t put a price tag on motherhood, and how our sacrifices can look so small in the larger scheme of things. Hop over to be reminded to count our joys.