Parenting Me

I stare at the tiny screen, noticing her facial expressions --my expressions. I look at her eyes --my eyes, my mother's eyes looking back at me from across the world. These video calls with my daughter are, at times, like looking into a mirror. Even the things that stress her or the words she uses to my grandchildren. Revealing much of who I was at that stage of life.

I turn toward our youngest here at home, not across the world but beside me. I do not see my eyes in his. He does not share my facial expressions --yet. But still he reveals. Our interactions often show me just who I am. Rigid. Annoyed. Arrogant. Fixed on controlling everything around me. Ugly. As he looks to meet my gaze, I turn away. As he seeks to make a connection with this far-too-busy person, I keep my answers short. 

But by the grace of God, I often hear the voice. He belongs to me.

And I soften. 

I have been called to this. I have not been called to laundry or paying bills or even to writing and teaching --at least, not first. I have been called to be his mother, their mother, wife of my husband, friend to my neighbors. Relationship. A daughter of the King; not just a proselyte or devotee. We --all of those who would come, are not merely saved to go our own way in obedient servitude, blindly following instructions. We are brought into relationship with the God who created us, the Judge who served our sentence, the King who sits on the throne of heaven. I am living the life of a daughter by the hesed of my Heavenly Father; not because I am not flawed and sinful, selfish and misguided. I am running this race, yearning to obey because He is worthy; not because I am trying to earn His favor, to meet His gaze or make a connection. The connection has been made. My gaze has been met. Though I am flawed and sinful, selfish and misguided, I have His favor through the Son. 

For all of my impatience revealed to me in shortened bedtime prayers and unwillingness to give yet another hug when tucking in... For all of my anger revealed to me when I've said, Stop teasing the dog, for the fourth time that morning... For all of my pride revealed when I use the I-told-you-so tone... For the death grip I have on clean floors and tidy circumstances revealed when milk is literally spilled... For all these things, there is grace. My Father loves me more than my getting it right. My parenting, as wobbly and broken as it is, does not sway His love for me. And I am drawn ever closer to Him.

The lesson is not just how failed I am; it is not only what is revealed in me as I parent our children, or be a wife to my husband, or be a friend to my neighbor. The takeaway is how good our Father is! His love for His children is as transformative as it is boundless. He forgives and lavishes grace, yes; but His Spirit works to then reveal His character in us. Like spiritual DNA passed from Parent to child, as we experience more of Him we become like Him. And as I become more like Him, I can want for my children to become more like me. I can, with confidence say to them, "Imitate me as I imitate Christ" (1 Corinthians 11:1). I can look at their selflessness and see my own. I can look at their humility and see my own. I can look at their beauty and see my own. Not achieved or earned by my own hand; but because my Father loves me and cares enough to parent me.