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Why Can't I Be "Mom of the Week?"

  • Terri Camp Home school author and mother
  • 2003 29 Sep
Why Can't I Be "Mom of the Week?"

One of my favorite radio stations honors a mom each week with a gift certificate to a woman's spa.  Whenever I hear the announcement of the most recent "Mom of the Week" winner, I wonder why my children don't ever nominate me to win.  Why don't my kids write a poignant, yet humorous, award-winning story about their mom?

Maybe it's because I yell at them when the house is a mess and when they've dropped shredded cheese all over the kitchen floor.  Or perhaps it is due to my ability to get irritated when there is a pile of Ranch dressing on the table, covered by piles of lettuce-- some child's feeble attempt at cleaning it no doubt.

Maybe they don't nominate me "Mom of the Week" because I tell them to leave me alone for "just one minute."  Of course they don't know how long a minute actually is.  Is this a "mom will be off the phone in a minute" minute, or is it a "get your shoes on, we have to be at church in a minute" minute?

Perhaps I have told them a few too many times to get their elbows off the table, comb their hair, clean their room, do their math, get their chores done (and joyfully please!), take off their shoes when they come in the house, close the door, and the dreaded "BE QUIET!"

Perhaps I'm not worthy of being nominated "Mom of the Week." 

Could it be I am selfish in my desire for my children to nominate me.  Actually if you must know, I don't care about the nomination so much as the recognition from my children that I do a lot for them and there is sometimes a great deal of cost on my part in being their mom. 

My sanity, for instance.  There are times I wonder at the end of the day if I will indeed be in full charge of my capacities in the morning, or will they be completely gone. Will I arise in the morning unable to function at all?

Don't my children realize how much I have given up for them?  Don't they realize what I could be if I didn't have to be their mom?  Don't they realize how many books I could read if I wasn't so busy tending to their needs? Don't they know I could write a ton of books if I didn't have to feed, clothe, and water them? Of course I would have nothing to write about, but they don't know that.

They probably do know all of these things.  They know what 2 Timothy 1:7 says: "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind."  They reason with me that I will not go insane from having children, because God has given me a spirit of love and a sound mind.

I have read that verse countless times.  I always turn to it when it's been "one of those days."  I hold onto the verse when I feel I might be losing my sound mind.  For some reason though, I always go to the sound mind part of the verse.  I seem to totally miss the part that says, "God has given me a spirit ... of love."

What is this "spirit ...of love" anyway? 

The spirit of love is when the Holy Spirit gently, oh so gently, reminds us how we are to live.  I don't need a day at a spa, even though I would enjoy that a lot; it would not refresh me as much as a good old-fashioned time alone with the Holy Spirit to renew my spirit of love.

I don't need my children to write a poignant letter about all that I do for them.  I need to read a letter from the Lord which reminds me of all He has done for me.

A few minutes ago Bryan came to me with a book.  He thrust it into my hands and demanded I read it to him. My first thought was, "I don't have time for this." However, I took the book and began to read thinking Bryan may get bored and walk away.  Within a couple of pages, seven of my children were standing around my chair as I read the story. 

As I continued to read, I realized it was one of those "oh so gentle" ways of the Holy Spirit.  Tears began to form in my eyes as I read the story of the Wemmicks who liked to put stars on the good people and dots on the bad people.  I realized as I was reading that I desired for my children to put stars on me.  I don't want to be a Wemmick.  I want to be a person who visits with the Maker of creation all the time, so I can be like Him.  I don't need stars, letters, or a trip to the spa.  I just need time with the Lord.

I closed the book as a tear dropped to the ground.

Christi shook her head at me.  I'm sure in her mind she thought, "Mom needs to read 2 Timothy 1:7; she's on the verge of losing her mind!"