The unlikely Mom

Welcome friends of Karen Ehman. If you didn't come here from there go there NOW. She's doing this awesome Christmas carnival and you can win some fantastic stuff!

If Karen is introducing us, hey, I'm Whitney. Thanks for popping by. I'm a Mom. When I used to introduce myself to people I'd start with that and then list a mini-resume to try and beef it up a bit. I want you to like me and be kind of impressed. Because I'm a pretty anemic Mom. I felt like my resume needed a little shine. Six years later, I'm good with being a Mom. Most days that singular job is more than I can pull off.

I didn't expect to like it much less love it-being a Mom. I knew that by some divine intervention I would love my children; I prayed I would like them. Because in general I don't really like kids. I think I have the spiritual gift of disciplining other people's children. Anybody else? If you've ever finished this sentence in your head, "what he really needs is a good..." you know what I'm talking about. No? Just me? Okay, please, please, please still be my friend.

So anyway, I knew I'd love my kids, but the dailiness of actually being a Mom, I wasn't' sure I'd like that.

This doesn't come naturally to me. I've seen natural Mom's. I had one. I hang out with a whole sorority of natural Mom's almost every day. For me, being a Mom (at least a good one, a Biblical one) takes a whole lot of Jesus. You know?

I forget until after noon to change my toddler's diaper-his OVERNIGHT diaper! We eat fast food a lot. My boys play their DS at the table when we go out to dinner. I've been called out by more than one of them for "not talking nice to Daddy." Seriously, do you feel so much better about yourself? (Subscribe now; I'm a daily dose of mommy-feel good!)

I have endured more sanctification in the last six years than I think I had in the ten prior. Nothing reveals my overabundance of flesh like three little boys. Motherhood doesn't hide a multitude of sins, in my case it highlights them. Where I should offer grace, a short fuse flares. Where they should hear gentleness, a snarky comment flies.

It would be so easy to stay focused on all my frailties. The list is so, so long. But as I sit here, counting contractions and awaiting the birth of our fourth son in six years I am filled to overflowing with joy, anticipation and sick cocktail of indigestion and back labor.  For all the difficulties of motherhood, it is inexplicably wonderful. There are a million reasons why but for me it is summed up in Hebrews 11:1.

"Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see."

In motherhood, God graces me with the ability to see the things hoped for-transformation, sanctification, mercies new everyday. I can see my boys years from now walking out their faith. I see a day when I don't lose my temper. I can see days when I'll inherit daughters. I can see fruits of the Spirit harvested in my children by their Dad's faithful family devotions.

Yes I love motherhood, but not because I'm a good Mom. I serve an always good God.

Tate, I promise to love you as lavishly as I can. I promise to always seek forgiveness of my sins even if it means making confession to you. I promise to show you how abundantly God redeems. I promise to help you be the man your Dad is. I promise to make sure you know this world does not revolve around you. I promise to help you know more than just Bible stories, but the God of the Bible. I promise I'll probably break like a thousand promises but I will love you forever. Just forgive me if there are moments (brief moments) when I don't like you so much. Just keeping' it real...

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