Receiving Her, Receiving Him

A look at my home on any typical day would show you this: toys strewn across the living room floor. Residue from milk puddles from supposedly spill-proof sippy cups dotting the carpet. Clean dishes stacked in one pile on the counter, dirty ones in another. Bits of bite-size finger foods thrown on the floor. Dirt in places I don't have time to clean and dust covering every bookshelf.  So many mounds of laundry that I swear I just washed sitting there dirty, begging me to pay attention and reclaim my house. Mirrors and windows and sliding glass doors with tiny fingerprints that I want to wash but can never bring myself to because I know those little prints only stay little so long.

A same look in said mirrors shows my personage in a similar state of shambles: no make-up to cover anything up: blotches spread across my face, dark circles under the eyes, pale lips. I haven't had time (nor do I enjoy) blow-drying my hair so it has been in a constant state of unmanageable wavy frizz with bangs that have been too long for three or four weeks now. And say hello to those extra ten pounds, begging for the attention that I never have the energy to give them. This is me: tired face, tired arms, tired legs.  Toes with flaking nail polish and feet with cracking skin.  Hands with burns from cooking dinner and fingernails hastily clipped but not shaped. Clothes from high school and the first two years of college that I'm still making use out of. The shoulders of my t-shirt are covered in food residue, tear residue, and snot residue.

But there...on my cheek...can you see it? A little pool of slobber. An open-mouthed present from the most precious gift I have ever had the privilege of spending eight months throwing up every day in order to get.

Just look at her! Her little rolls of baby chub linger on her feet, thighs, and arms. When she smiles, it takes her whole face to do it: pearly whites, little lips spread wide, cheeks gathering upward, and eyes that beam such a bright blue I wonder that the angels don't just stop and stare every time she laughs. There's a bit of banana stuck in her left eyebrow. Her hair is a bit wrinkled from yesterday's pigtails, but that little patch of curls behind her right ear is still there and still curly and I have no idea where that curl comes from, but I am glad it is there. Her clothes are cute, mostly hand-me-downs with a few birthday presents thrown in, but she doesn't care where they came from. She wears them proudly and destroys them happily.

I don't know who Angela Schmidt is, but yesterday I read something that she said and I liked it. I more than liked it. In the past twenty-four hours, I have thought about it, memorized it, and decided to better live her words. And now I am sharing them with you.

"While we try to teach our children about life, our children teach us what life is all about."

So perhaps frizzy hair and dark circles under the eyes don't matter as much as smashed (and highly enjoyed!) bananas stuck on an eyebrow. And perhaps those extra ten pounds are nothing more than my own baby fat hanging on for dear life. And does it really matter whether my clothes are brand-new or well-loved and well-worn? If  my eyes are sparkling and my lips are laughing, then isn't that considered a good life? No, my friends, that is considered a GREAT life. 

I came across this Mormon Message the other day and in all my breakfast-getting, medicine-taking, baby-waking frenzy I surely needed to hear it. Whether you are or Mormon or not, perhaps you will also appreciate what Elder Anderson has to say. 

I love what this anonymous Mom blogger he quotes has to say about raising children:

"Motherhood is not a hobby. You do not collect children because you find them cuter than stamps. It's not something you do if you can squeeze the time in. It is what God gave you time for."

Sometimes it is good for me to take a step back and ask myself how I am using this time God has given me. Am I discouraged and depressed because I can't possibly keep up, or I am encouraged and impressed by the miracle I have charge over? And what is truly more important--clean sheets or cuddling with a baby who will only stay a baby for a few more short months if I am lucky?

Now let me quote someone to you that I would like to think I do know. He has been with me in all my rock-bottom life experiences and all of my higher-than-the-sky life excitements. I have come to trust His word. And He tells us that parenthood, and mothering, is not only something you do if you happen to have children. You can do it whether you are biological or adoptive parent with children in your home or not. 

He says: "And whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth me." (St. Matthew 18:5)

So as a teacher, do you take the time to show the children in your classroom love? If so, you are showing Christ love. As a nurse, do you show gentle care for each little patient that comes in with a sniffly nose or burning fever? If so, you are soothing Christ. And as a grandparent, every time you make a little one giggle, you are sharing joy with Christ.

And for all those young moms like me, every time you play with cars, or Fisher Price Little People, or baby dolls, you are teaching with Christ. Every time you make a bottle or cut up a pancake, you are nourishing Christ. Every time you cuddle, and snuggle, and kiss, and hug, you are showing Christ that you receive Him into your home with gladness. 

So I will take my toy-covered floor. And I will take my dish-covered countertops, and my laundry-piled bedroom, and my finger-printed mirrors. I will take my crazy hair days and my tired feet and old clothes. And you bet I will take my morning cuddles and nighttime lullabies, my playtime and mealtime and every moment I have with my smiling little girl. 

 

Because every moment I have with her is a moment that takes me closer to Him.