Wednesday, March 26, 2014



I lean over the stairs in the kitchen and call up, a slice of bread and a knife to spread peanut butter on it in the other.  We all slept in on this snowy March morning, and are running behind.  Isaac has been getting his school uniform on now for...oh...14 minutes.  I set the clock on his bookshelf so he could see how many minutes it should actually take him to get dressed. Isaac has a love/hate relationship with deadlines.

He is humming to himself on his bed as I take the steps two at a time to get to him...

"Buddy, I need you to please get dressed.  We are running late so we need to make the most of our time" and I point to his clock.

He looks at me, half dressed, t-shirt backwards, and smiles.

I sigh and tilt my head to the side.  That smile melts me every time.

We finish our morning routine, and make it out the door in record time.  After dropping Isaac off and calling Dan and Ethan on their route to school to make sure they are up to speed on the schedule for our Wednesday, I walk into the house.  I remember, laundry in the dryer!  If I get to it fast enough, I won't have to iron (praise be to God).  I fold a load and throw another one into the washer.  I even have a few minutes to wash the kitchen floor and mark it off of my to-do list.  Patting myself on the back, I think I've recovered from this morning's tardiness.

As I make my way upstairs to get myself ready, I take my usual stroll through the boys' rooms to do what us OCD moms do best--fix a wrinkled bed sheet, pick up jammies off of the floor...put piles of books back on the shelves from the night before...

Then, I see it.  And it freezes me in my tracks.

On Isaac's bed, his Bible lay open to the story of Jesus' crucifixion.  I look down and see Jesus on the cross, and a paraphrased kid's version from Luke 23:  Jesus forgives everyone who asks him to.  He will forgive you.  

I close my eyes and sigh, just like I did earlier when I told Isaac that he needed to hurry up, we had things to do, places to go...I didn't notice what was taking up that 14 minutes of his morning...

He was sitting on his bed, shirt on backwards, reading his Word, starting the day.


and truth.  

As a parent, I pray every night over my children.  I believe that I am their greatest advocate, their greatest example, and I know those are hard titles to be effective in!  I pray that as they sleep, God would awaken their hearts and give them divine wisdom.  I intercede on their behalves for forgiveness--the image of Jesus sacrificing Himself for love brought that reminder to the forefront.

I forget that my prayers aren't just pep talks to give me hope--they are heard and received by a living, powerful, and gracious God who knows my kids better than I do.  Here, as I look down at Isaac's bed and the tattered little Bible with the broken binding, I am moved to thank God for the simple reminder--He loves my children.  He desires time with them.  He knows what they need and knows how they work...He was there when they were formed in my womb, and was so excited to watch their lives begin!  Even when there are deadlines and to-do lists--He meets my kids where they are. He is with them.  Always.

I sigh and tilt my head to the side...who made the most of their time this morning, Mommy?  So simple.