Megan Breedlove

When You Don’t Win

Megan Breedlove November 2, 2015 No Comments

Ahhhhh, cake walks. The anticipation of maybe, just maybe, hearing your number called and getting to choose the cake of your dreams.

I actually remember one particular cake walk from sometime when I was in elementary school. I won! I walked over to the table and chose the cake I had had my eye on all night: a sheet cake decorated in myriad colors with the word “Mexico” and all kinds of squiggles and designs. That. cake. was. beautiful!

Recently, my children participated in a cake walk at a party. Timmy became discouraged the first few times he didn’t hear his number called, so I picked him up and walked around with him. I held him for several rounds, and as time went by, and most of the other kids won cakes, Timmy began quietly fussing (read: whining). I reminded him that it’s not possible to win all the time and reassured him that he still had a chance.

And then……victory on number 19!

By this point, Timmy was hanging his head and fussing continuously. “You won, Timmy!” I exclaimed. He continued to whine. “Timmy, you won!” I repeated. More whining.

I began to walk away from the game, toward the prize table, because I was embarrassed. Did he not understand that he had won? What was the problem?

“Timmy, why are you fussing?” I asked quietly. “You won!”

“I wanted to win lots of times,” Timmy said, disappointed.

My first thought was: Be grateful you won at all!

My second thought was: Yeah, I understand, buddy. I hate it when I don’t win as often as I’d like.

Like in life. I know it’s not realistic to expect to get what I want all the time. But I’d like to. And sometimes, when I don’t, I get disappointed.

Here are some recent times I can remember not getting what I wanted:

My child embarrassed me in public.
I tried to learn a particular skill, and it didn’t turn out well at all.
I didn’t receive an invitation I was hoping for.
Someone assumed the worst about my character.

These are not the only unpleasant things I’ve faced in the past few weeks; there have also been some that were traumatic.

But in the same time period, I’ve also encountered these circumstances:

My child spent time drawing a sweet picture for me and telling me how much she loved me.
I received a compliment from a student who enjoys my teaching style.
I was invited to have lunch with a friend.
Several family members went out of their way to verbally affirm their confidence in my character and their love for me.

So, I have a choice. I can complain that I had to face the first set of circumstances, or I can rejoice that I experienced the second.

It’s the same choice you have when you’re disappointed.

Grieve if you need to; it’s okay!

But don’t forget the good things.

Job 1:21—Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither: the LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD. (KJV)

Before They’re Gone

Megan Breedlove October 26, 2015 No Comments

Holding baby's hand Raising young children is hard. It’s hard. I know this. As proof, I could tell you about all the things I’ve sacrificed and all the times I’ve wanted to scream in frustration or sob in discouragement.

But I won’t tell you, because you already know. You understand.

After all, what’s so special about holding our child’s hand to cross the parking lot or smoothing his hair back from his way-too-hot forehead?

Everything.

Because moments like these won’t be around forever. Children grow, and as they enter each new stage, they leave behind some of the exquisite moments of the previous one. What once seemed ordinary and commonplace is now gone, and somehow, in the going, it becomes precious. And we realize we would give anything to experience many of the moments we thought nothing of while we they were happening.

The following prose poem puts this into words in a way that’s achingly perfect. I didn’t write it, but there’s no way I could improve upon it.

So get a box of tissues and then read the poem. Let it soak in. I’ll be back at the end to offer a prayer for you and me.

The Last Time

From the moment you hold your baby in your arms,
you will never be the same.
You might long for the person you were before,
When you had freedom and time,
And nothing in particular to worry about.
You will know tiredness like you never knew it before,
And days will run into days that are exactly the same,
Full of feeding and burping,
Whining and fighting,
Naps, or lack of naps. It might seem like a never-ending cycle.

But don’t forget…
There is a last time for everything.
There will come a time when you will feed your baby
for the very last time.
They will fall asleep on you after a long day
And it will be the last time you ever hold your sleeping child.
One day you will carry them on your hip,
then set them down,
And never pick them up that way again.
You will scrub their hair in the bath one night
And from that day on they will want to bathe alone.
They will hold your hand to cross the road,
Then never reach for it again.
They will creep into your room at midnight for cuddles,
And it will be the last night you ever wake for this.
One afternoon you will sing ‘the wheels on the bus’
and do all the actions,
Then you’ll never sing that song again.
They will kiss you goodbye at the school gate,
the next day they will ask to walk to the gate alone.
You will read a final bedtime story and wipe your
last dirty face.
They will one day run to you with arms raised,
for the very last time.

The thing is, you won’t even know it’s the last time
until there are no more times, and even then,
it will take you a while to realize.

So while you are living in these times,
remember there are only so many of them and
when they are gone,
you will yearn for just one more day of them

For one last time.
~~Author unknown~~

Oh, Father God, help us appreciate the indescribable beauty of holding our child’s hand, tucking him in, or brushing her hair, while we still have these opportunities. May we never take these moments for granted. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.

Be the Person God Made You to Be

Megan Breedlove October 19, 2015 No Comments

Boys are different from girls.

Don’t worry; I’ve known this for a long time—at least in terms of physical differences. But never have I had the invisible differences between the genders demonstrated so clearly as this past weekend, when I took my son and two of his friends to Legoland for his birthday.

The three boys chose to sit in the back seat of our minivan so they could all be together. I, as the driver, was too far away to be part of the conversation. That was fine with me. I got a kick out of just listening to them.

Here are the things I learned from my eavesdropping:

1. 11-year-old boys are every bit as loud as 11-year-old girls.

2. The decibel level, however, won’t consist primarily of whispering and giggles, but rather of random, questionable noises and frequent usages of the word “butt.”

3. On the other hand, there will be plenty of giggles when someone says the aforementioned “butt” or refers to any other bodily function you wouldn’t want to perform in polite company.

Boys and girls are very different.

This presents somewhat of a problem for Kenny. His siblings who are closest to him in age are all girls. And what Kenny thinks is hilarious, they often consider to be rude or gross. (“Mommy, make Kenny stop!”) So what’s a boy to do? At least he has three-year-old Timmy, who thinks all that stuff is hilarious. But still, I’m sure it must be nice for Kenny to be around same-age peers who share his sense of humor.

So what’s the point? That if you want to hang out with 11-year-old boys, you better be prepared for humor that makes you think, “Huh?” or “Eeww”? Well, yeah, that too. But the main point is this: Just as boys and girls are different by (God’s) design, you and I are different, as well. Yes, we’re both women and moms. We may both be wives, and we may both be die-hard Cubs fans (which takes a special kind of emotional stamina, ha ha).

But still, we’re different.

And that’s okay. Because that’s the way God designed us to be.

He wants us to be different. He delights in our differences. He doesn’t want millions of Beth Moores or Ruth Bell Grahams or Sandi Pattys. He wants me, and He wants you.

You may do your makeup every day, dress stylishly, and have your hair cut and highlighted at a salon. Great. I don’t do any of those things. But that’s equally great.

I may know how to speak or read 4 languages, play the piano, and enjoy public speaking. Good. Perhaps none of these traits describes you. Equally good.

One of the saddest things in the world is when you see a woman squelching or denying who she was created to be, just because she thinks it would be better if she were more like someone else. When she does this—when you do this, when I do this—the world misses out on enjoying the unique person God had created in her. Worse yet, it misses out on seeing His creativity reflected just as He had intended it to be reflected in her life.

And she herself spends her life miserable, if she’s honest, because she’s trying to force herself into a mold that’s “better” than what God had planned for her.

Yes, if there’s something you truly need to do better or differently (in other words, if God says so), then by all means, repent or change. But if you’re just trying to be like someone else, stop! It doesn’t matter whether or not you’re like your mother, your sister, your best friend, or some famous person. God doesn’t care at all.

You see, it really doesn’t matter whether or not you’re “as good as” someone else. What matters is whether you reflect the image of Jesus.

And that’s something you can best do not only by clinging to Him, but by being whom He made you to be.

1 Samuel 16:7—The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart. (NIV)

How to Know What’s True

Megan Breedlove October 12, 2015 No Comments

Truth Lies Several times a week, I come across links in my Facebook feed to articles that either 1) try to alarm you, or 2) try to stir up your emotions (whether positive or negative). I guess that’s good, in a way. If something alarming is going on out there, I want to know about it. And I do sometimes enjoy feel-good stories. The problem is that often, these articles aren’t true.

They get shared thousands of times because people simply don’t question what they’re told—especially when emotions are involved.

I came across a perfectly-worded statement of this principle the other day. Lindsey, Jessica, and I were watching one of their favorite shows, which I also happen to like because of its humor (which is well-done and appropriate). One of the characters said to another, “None of that’s true!” The second character replied, “But it feels true. That makes it true.”

No. No, it doesn’t.

Yet we sometimes act as if what feels true must really be true, or the opposite, if something doesn’t feel true, it can’t be true.

Why in the world would we appoint our emotions to be arbiters of the truth? We are so fickle, emotionally speaking. Our emotions are swayed by our circumstances, the weather, what a friend just did or didn’t say, and even our hormones. They are far from reliable indicators of how we ought to see things and what truth really is.

Even when we read Scripture, we don’t really absorb it unless our emotions get in line with what it says. If the Bible tells us God loves us, but we don’t feel loved, then we don’t really believe it. If it tells us something is sin, but it feels right or good to us, we tell ourselves it really can’t be all that bad.

We need to accept as truth what God has told us is true, and we need to believe it and act upon it, no matter what our emotions tell us.

Having an emotionally dull quiet time doesn’t mean we haven’t worshiped; likewise, having an emotional experience doesn’t necessarily mean we have. Let’s look at what God says about worship, not about what we feel.

Feeling unloved by God doesn’t mean that we are. In fact, the Bible tells us over and over that God loves us. The truth is that He’s madly, passionately in love with us, even though we won’t always feel it. “Not feeling it” isn’t the problem, though. There can be many reason why we have difficulty absorbing God’s love, and some of them are in no way our fault. The problem comes in when we fail to replace the lies our emotions tell us with the truth God’s Word tells us.

And what about feeling forgiven? I’ve heard many people say that they believe God forgives them; they just don’t feel forgiven. They continue to dwell on feelings of guilt because that’s what it feels like they should do. But if they’ve confessed, they are forgiven. Emotions like guilt have no authority over us and must be taken captive to the truth of God’s Word.

I know it’s hard to believe and act upon truth when our emotions scream otherwise. But I choose to stand upon the truth of God instead of what my emotions tell me. I hope you do, too.

Psalm 25:5—Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long. (NIV)

What Moms Can Learn from Moses

Megan Breedlove September 28, 2015 No Comments

220px-Rembrandt_-_Moses_with_the_Ten_Commandments_-_Google_Art_Project You would think that of all the people depicted in the Bible, the moms would be the ones who could best understand our frustrations as mothers. That’s probably why there are so many books titled something like, “Moms of the Bible.” We’re supposed to read about moms and learn from them. Be inspired by them, even.

All of that is well and good. But lately, I’ve come to think that the Biblical personage who could best understand a mom’s frustration is Moses.

Moses was a father, but not a mother. He wasn’t even a woman. How could he be the one who best understands moms?

Consider his words to God for yourself, and see whether you agree that he understands:

“Why have you made this so hard? What have I done wrong for you to burden me with these people? They keep complaining. I can’t deal with them all by myself. It’s too hard! If this is how you’re going to treat me, then if you love me at all, kill me now, so I don’t have to deal with this anymore!”

I kid you not! That’s what Moses said. (You can look up the full passage in Numbers 11:11-15.)

Yet we also know that Moses is the only human being ever to have seen God’s face (see Exodus 33:11 below).

That means there is hope for you and me, moms. We don’t have to be some kind of super-spiritual Christian in order to have a close relationship with God. Intimacy with Him is possible for anyone who desires it—even for us!

I’m not saying that our emotions are always righteous (far from it!). What I’m saying is that if we do what Moses did, we can still have precious intimacy with God, even though we’re not perfect.

What did Moses do? He talked to God about what he thought and how he felt. He didn’t just stuff his feelings down, or try to deal with them in his own strength. He admitted he needed God, and he begged God for help.

But Moses didn’t just come to God when he needed something. He came to God often. He loved God with his whole heart, and he maintained that relationship all the time, not just when he wanted to ask God to do the genie thing and pop out of a bottle and rescue him.

Moms, did you realize you can bring your thoughts, emotions, and frustrations to God? Moses did, and God didn’t zap him to death. Instead, He helped him. God’s not going to zap you either when you come before Him honestly and pour out your heart. He will help you—not condemn you.

So take a cue from Moses. Seek a relationship with Him always, even when things are going well. And when something comes up, admit what you think and how you feel and pour your heart out to God.

Doing so won’t prevent you from experiencing intimacy with Him. In fact, it’s necessary for intimacy to happen. You have to share your heart.

Exodus 33:11—The LORD would speak to Moses face to face, as a man speaks with his friend. (NIV)

Who You Really Are

Megan Breedlove September 21, 2015 No Comments

268/365 - Default State You can learn a lot from not knowing anything about science.

Let me explain.

The other day, Kenny asked me whether a “space storm” was the same thing as a black hole. Not knowing what a space storm was, I asked him, “What is a space storm?”

“Well,” Kenny said, “it does such-and-such.”

“No, not what does it do, but what is it?” I asked.

Again, Kenny tried to answer by telling me the things that happened within a space storm.

“Kenny,” I said, “What is it composed of? What is its essence?”

“Hmm,” Kenny said. “Well…I don’t know.”

I don’t blame him. It’s much harder to define a thing’s essence than it is to discuss what the thing does.

Could you do it in regards to your own essence? Could you describe yourself, apart from anyone you know, anything you own, or anything you do?

There are many reasons why we sometimes get confused as to who we really are. Past sins can seem to define us, because we can’t forget them. I’m the person who….

Present occupations or roles in life seem like they are perfectly adequate for classifying us. I’m a student. I’m a lawyer. I’m a mom.

Or maybe it’s what we own that imparts to us an identity. I’m rich. Or our talents. I’m a singer. Or our physical attributes. I’m pretty.

All of these things may be true. We all have sins in our past. We all have roles in the present. And we all have adjectives that describe us.

But none of those things is who we are.

What, then, is our identity?

My friend, if you are “in Christ”—in other words, if you have a personal relationship with Jesus—here is your identity:

You are clean (John 15:3). “Liar” or “adulteress” or “drug user” is not your identity.

You are healed (Isaiah 53:5). “Wounded” is not your identity.

You are chosen (Colossians 3:12). “Unwanted” is not your identity.

You are a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17). You are no longer who you used to be.

You are capable (Philippians 4:13). “Not good enough” is not your identity.

You are powerful where once you were weak (2 Corinthians 12:10). “Helpless” or “ineffective” is not your identity.

You are victorious (1 Corinthians 15:57). “Loser” is not your identity.

May I offer you a few more?

You are Christ’s friend (John 15:15). You are complete (Colossians 2:10). You are a daughter of light (1 Thessalonians 5:5), anointed by God (1 John 2:27), and a joint heir with Christ to all God’s riches (Romans 8:17). You have the right to come boldly before the throne of God to find mercy and grace in your time of need (Hebrews 4:16).

Let no earthly thing define you—not what you’ve done, not what others say you are, not whom you know or what talents you possess.

You are far more than any of these things.

You are who God says you are.

Like Hamsters in a Wheel

Megan Breedlove September 14, 2015 No Comments

Okay, so, science.

I’m not very good at it and never have been, really. I do all right with simple scientific principles such as “don’t combine baking soda with vinegar unless you want a volcano” and “plant a seed in the right kind of dirt, give it the right amount of water and sun, and it will grow”. I even find basic science (as in the really basic kind) pretty interesting sometimes.

It can also be pretty funny now and then, as in the video above. One hamster is running in a wheel that’s lying down. The challenge for poor little Puffy (or whatever his name is) is that the ground is spinning beneath his feet. Puffy is running in place as fast as he can, in order to keep from being spun off into oblivion.

Then, Muffy comes walking along, and she sees Puffy running for his life. She thinks, “Hey, that looks like fun”, so she climbs in and starts running, too. The two of them run together for a little while, until, WHOAH, Muffy can’t keep up and gets plastered to the outer wall of the wheel as she goes helplessly spinning around and around.

Eventually, she gets back to her feet, and she joins Puffy, who is still running. Now they’re both running in place, until, YIKES, Muffy loses it again, and then spins into Puffy, causing him to lose it too.

Okay, so here’s the point: I hate to ruin a fun, cute little video (it has hamsters, for pete’s sake), but there are tons of spiritual implications in this for us, as well.

You and I have all had times when we felt like Puffy and Muffy, being spun around against our will and out of our control. Somehow, we get our feet back under us, and then, BAM!, it happens again. We’re spinning.

Sometimes, it’s because we don’t stay as close to the center as we should.

There are times in every mom’s spiritual life when she feels like she’s this close to losing it. Like she’s running as fast as she can and can barely keep up. And sometimes, no matter how fast she runs, she will get swept off her feet and spun out of control.

But it’s a lot less likely to happen if she’s staying close to the center.

It has to do with force—the scientific kind of force. Whether you’re a hamster on a wheel or a kid on a merry-go-round at the park, the most stable place to be is right at the center. As you leave the center and get closer to the edge, the forces are greater. You’re much more likely to get ripped off the edge of a crazily spinning merry-go-round than you are off the center.

Spiritually speaking, you’re a lot less likely to get swept away when you’re staying close to Jesus. When you’re clinging to Him, it’s a lot harder for Satan or circumstances to fling you into out-of-control-ness.

So what are you doing to make sure you’re running in the center of the bowl? You don’t want to fall, and you don’t want to take anyone down with you, as poor Muffy did, just because you failed to do what you knew you were supposed to do—to stay center.

Stay center, moms. It’s more than science. It’s good spiritual practice.

Psalm 63:8—My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me. (ESV)

Can You Be Jealous Fairly?

Megan Breedlove August 31, 2015 No Comments

envy Why does she get to be so beautiful?

Why does she get to have such a nice house/car/husband?

Why does she get to be so talented/popular?

We’ve all wondered why that one certain person seems to have everything going for her, while our own life is falling apart. We’ve asked ourselves—or asked others, or complained to God—about why people who don’t seem to deserve it get “all” the blessings.

Why not me? is what we really want to know. Why don’t I get that?

It’s tough to see someone else getting the things we desire. The things we put all our energies towards, but can’t seem to attain. What about me? our heart cries. Why not me?

We’re jealous.

We don’t like to admit that, because we know jealousy is a sin. We try to pretend we’re not jealous. We try to squash the jealousy down so we don’t have to confront it. We plaster smiles on our faces and pretend like it’s not eating at us.

But it is.

We become jealous (or its close cousin, resentful) because we want what others have.

Sometimes, that is. You see, we don’t always want what others have.

Here’s what I mean. We ask why someone else gets (fill in the blank here with the name of the thing we want). We never ask questions like these:

Why does she get to be only 53 years old and dying from ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease)?

Why does she get to bury her son, who is dead by his own hand?

Why does she get to live in a shelter, because her husband was abusing her and her children?

The questions at the top of the page are questions I have struggled with in the past. I’ve never asked myself the three questions above this paragraph.

All of these situations—ALS, a child’s suicide, and spousal abuse—are circumstances that friends of mine are currently facing. Yet I’ve never asked why I don’t get things like that.

We take blessings for granted, and we don’t spend much time being thankful for them. Instead, we ask why we don’t get the things we want.

But the real question is not, Why doesn’t God give me the things I want?

The real question should be, Why does God spare me from the terrible things I don’t want?

The first question leads to a sense of entitlement. The second leads to a deep, profound gratitude.

Why don’t I get some of the things I want? I don’t know, but this, I do know: I also don’t get some of the things I really don’t want. And those are the things that are more important.

A large, pretty house? Nice…but not as big a blessing as my health.

Physical beauty? Nice…but not as big a deal as physical safety.

Being talented or popular? No comparison to having my children alive and here with me.

If you want to ask why you don’t have what someone else has, be fair about it: Ask that question in regards to everybody.

You will find that you are grateful that you don’t have what others have far more often than you are jealous.

Hebrews 13:5—Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for he has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” (ESV)

Story Lines

Megan Breedlove August 24, 2015 No Comments

hands Five years ago, as I was taking a shower, I reached for the shampoo.

It was an action I had taken thousands of times before, and which I’ve repeated thousands of times since. But that particular moment on that particular day became forever etched on my memory.

I reached for the plastic bottle, and for some reason, I looked at my hand. Really looked. And I thought, This is not the hand of a young woman.

I wasn’t what most people would consider old (I was 39). But no longer was I young. At least, not according to the lines I saw in the skin of my fingers and the back of my palm.

Once, I had been young enough that my skin was completely smooth, my hands unmarked by the passage of time.

Not anymore.

As I stood there in the shower contemplating the changes in my hands wrought by time, I began to consider the changes in the rest of my body, too, from the time I had been born, up until now.

For instance, there are two patches of skin that is slightly lighter than the rest of my skin. One patch is on the top of my right ankle, in the bend between my foot and leg. The other is on my right knee. Both are there because when I was a child, I kept falling and skinning my knee and ankle, so many times that the skin became forever changed.

These changes tell a part of my story.

So do the sagginess of my tummy and my C-section scar. They tell about the carrying and birthing of 5 children.

The calluses on the soles of my feet bear witness to all the places my feet have taken me, from Australia to the World Trade Center, to hospital rooms and funeral homes, to parties and celebrations, libraries and grocery stores and the Playland at McDonald’s.

The increasing number of gray hairs in among the brown ones makes the point that I have lived long enough to have gray hairs.

The lines in my hands are there not only because I’m growing older, but because my hands have done so many things: tended sick children, typed emails or books or papers, held and swung a racquetball racquet, played the piano, fixed innumerable PB&J’s, gripped a steering wheel, changed diapers.

My increasing lack of flexibility (I used to be able to do the splits) reveals not only that I’m aging, but that I don’t often have time to exercise as I’d like to.

The texture of the skin on my face, if you look really closely, will tell you about the times I struggled with acne.

Some of the freckles on my back and shoulders are there because of sunburns I got in the midst of having wonderful fun.

None of these things is an imperfection, or something to be despised; all are simply results of the way my body has changed as it has told my story.

The Apostle Paul wrote, “I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus” (see Galatians 6:17). I realize that the context is different; he was talking about the abuse he’d suffered for Jesus’ sake. But the marks on my body testify of Jesus, too. They display His creativity and goodness in ordering my days. They tell my story, which is really His story. His plan. His design.

I anticipate more changes as I age, and that’s okay. I don’t regret the way anything has changed so far. And while I don’t exactly look forward to my hearing or eyesight declining, or my energy fading, I do anticipate the way that even these things will reflect the life God has planned for me.

And I look forward to the day when, by God’s grace, I will sit with my grandchildren at my feet, and I’ll say, “Do you see these wrinkles? Let me tell you what they represent—the beautiful story of how God brought them to be.”

My hands may no longer be the hands of a young woman. But they are my hands.

They are my story.

Proverbs 20:29—The glory of young men is their strength, gray hair the splendor of the old. (NIV)

And to the Mothers of Young Children, Write…

Megan Breedlove August 17, 2015 No Comments

pen and paper The first part of the book of Revelation actually begins in a pretty run-of-the-mill manner. No dragons, no incredible creatures, no language that is hard to understand. Just the Apostle John, being given a revelation and taking dictation for a letter from God to each of 7 churches.

The letters all follow pretty much the same format, with God being the speaker: “Here’s what you do well. Here’s what you do wrong. Repent.”

I wonder what God would say to us as moms?

I bet it’s very different from what He would actually say.

We think that if God were to write us a letter in the same style He wrote to the churches in Revelation, it would go something like this:

To the mom in that too-small house in suburban Cleveland, write: I know your deeds. You got up in the middle of the night last night and gave your child cough syrup. But this I hold against you: You make plain, uninspiring meals. You let your kids eat junk food too often. You can’t throw a birthday party that is fit for Pinterest. You get impatient. You’re not as creative as the other moms in your child’s preschool/homeschool co-op/dance class/soccer team. Your kids refuse to eat anything unless it’s covered in ketchup. You don’t understand Common Core (or, if you homeschool, you don’t do enough projects). You need to start doing a better job, or else!

We assume that God might find some small thing to praise us for, if He looked really hard and wasn’t that picky. But He’d have plenty of things to tell us to do better.

Maybe that’s because we find it much easier to see our flaws (real or perceived) than to celebrate our successes. And if we can see them, then God can certainly see all that we see, and then some. Since His standards are perfection, and we’re far below that, then, well, how many good things could He really have to say about us?

Yes, God’s standards require perfection—in terms of sin. But not in terms of making honest mistakes, failing to know everything there is to know about raising kids, or possessing only minimal abilities to help your child with his science project. This kind of imperfection is in no way sinful, and we shouldn’t feel guilty about it.

Yet before I tell you what kind of letter I think God would write to us, let me be very, very clear: I do not claim that these words are directly inspired from God. I am simply sharing with you something I imagine God would say to us, something in keeping with Biblical truth and His character. I do not claim special revelation. Nonetheless, here is the letter, and with this, I will close:

To the mom who finds it far easier to see what she does wrong than what she does right, write: I know your deeds. You got up in the middle of the night last night and tended to your sick child. You do that every time your child needs you. You change the sheets on your child’s bed every time she has an accident—again. You choose meals for her that you hope she will enjoy. You make the hard choices for your child—which friends? which clothes? how much media time? when’s bedtime?—and you’re willing to let your child get really angry at you, because you know you’re doing the right thing—or at least, you’re trying, and hoping you’re doing the right thing.

You buy soap and shampoo for your child. You wash his clothes. You give up sleep to tend to him, and you’ve given up the hope of ever eating a hot meal or taking a shower in peace and quiet for at least the next 16 years. You’ve been to the ER more than once, and the pediatrician thousands of times. You sacrificed your own career to stay home with your child—or you work really, really hard outside the home so that you can earn money for the things your child needs.

You’ve spent money on children’s prescription medications and gone without your formerly regular trips to the beauty or manicure salon. You’ve become willing to become known as “so-and-so’s mom” rather than your own name. You’ve forgotten what you every used to talk about with your friends before you had children.

I love all these things about you. I love them, and I love you, and I’m thankful that in this way, you feed my sheep.

But this I have against you: You try to do it all in your own strength. You fail to realize how much I could help you, so you go on struggling in your own power. You don’t come to Me for the physical strength and soul strength I would pour out upon you if you would just ask.

I’m willing and eager to help you, Daughter. Come to Me for everything you need. Let Me tell you what an incredible job you’re doing. Let Me make you confident and reassure you with My love. You are beyond precious to Me.

Scripture basis: Revelation 1-5, various citations