The day did not start well. I was up late working and dealing with the two year old. Hubby left for an early doctor’s appointment so I didn’t roll out of bed until the kids were already up and helping themselves to breakfast. My daughter began the day by giving me attitude. The kind where she decides she isn’t going to do anything I say; not her school work, not her chores. I feel powerless because while I can try to motivate her, I can’t actually MAKE her do things.
I keep reminding myself that she was intended to be mine, they all are. But that feels like small comfort after a day of grueling arguments. I repeat myself over and over again, “I know you may feel that way, but it just isn’t true.” Again and again I have to reaffirm to her the facts and reemphasize the truth. Half the time I don’t know if she’s doing it on purpose.
I need to remind myself nearly as often. It may feel like she hates you, she doesn’t. I think I’m failing her, I’m not. It feels like it will always be this way, it won’t. Nothing tests faith quite like raising children. This idea that God gave me these tiny humans to mold and guide into adulthood is both laughable and sobering. Because I am far from having it all together.
Every day I wonder if my imperfect parenting will be enough and again I must accept the truth. It won’t be. But God’s got my back. I was never intended to traverse this crucible alone, and even as the dross is being burned away, I am being refined into someone more like Jesus. Parenting may be the fire but I am not in the furnace alone.