I like to think of myself as an optimist. When my friends are going through tough times
it’s all too easy for me to locate and share (whether they’re interested or
not) the silver lining. I do this with
myself too, which is sometimes helpful and sometimes plunges me into a vicious
guilt cycle for complaining about something when I have so much for which to be
thankful.
In spite of my optimism, I know that I have the ‘gift’ of criticism. Sometimes this can come in handy, but usually
it’s a hindrance. There have been
precious few times in my adult life when I haven’t been in a state of
dissatisfaction with some major aspect of my current circumstances. Every job I’ve had I’ve complained about, and
I’m especially good at putting blame on anyone but me. It’s
her fault I’m so unhappy because she’s such a bossy person. It’s his fault that I can’t get this done
because he’s getting in the way and slowing me down. If he was a better teacher I wouldn’t be
stuck here wasting my time. If she would
just let me do it my way she would see how much better it could be. Criticizing others justifies my unhappiness
and temporarily eases frustration.
There are two seasons in the past ten years that do
contradict my poor attitude. One was my
undergraduate college experience. My
parents did a terrific job of informing me that the four years they had in
college were some of the best of their lives and to not undervalue them. My childhood was devoid of meaningful friendships
and college gave me the relationships I had sought and prayed for. I knew how good I had it and I relished every
day as a new adventure, full of excitement and promise.
The other season is, thankfully, one that I’m in right
now. It’s the season of mommy-hood. There are a lot of things about being a mom
that people turn their noses up at (literally).
I go online and read articles about parenting and then shake my head
when the comments below inevitably contain the following sentiments:
-Why would anyone go
through all of that to have kids?
-I had one kid and
that was enough! I miss my freedom and
job and being skinny.
-I can’t wait until
so-and-so is old enough so that I can go back to work. I’m going stir-crazy at home!
-Reading articles like
this convinces me that I will never have children. The world’s overpopulated anyway.
Now, I know that I’m only 6 months into the adventure of
parenting. I’m aware of the fact that
eleven hours of sleep my little boy gives me each night could disappear at any
moment. I know there’s a whole lot
awaiting me down the road that will challenge my patience and mercy. But, I also know that there’s something about
being a mom that beautifully strips away ME and brings me selflessness beyond
anything I’ve experienced in life. All
of the sudden it’s not such a big deal to scrub soiled clothing or change eight
diapers a day or catch spit-up in my hand or get up at 4 in the morning. I don’t exactly look forward to those things,
but when they inevitably happen it’s OK.
Each new day is a new adventure, full of excitement and promise.
My prayer is that the patience I’m experiencing in being a
new mom permeates the rest of my life. I
want to be a cooperative musician, a giving wife, a humble servant of the
Lord. There will be the inevitable
trials and bumps, but surely there are better ways to handle them than passing
the blame and puffing in self-righteousness.
Because each new day is a new adventure, full of excitement and promise.
(I suppose it’s not so hard to be a selfless mommy when you
get to spend your days with this smile.)
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