I’m tempted to see my maternal missteps as global pronouncements of my failure to nurture my children right. But my children see no such thing. They forgive and they forget. Their mercy pours down on me… I hate when my raw edges are exposed and I fall short of the mother I want to be, the mother I am called to be. But it’s my children who smooth out those edges by their very love for imperfect me and their knack at seeing things – good, hopeful things – that I don’t.
While I’m busy looking for a sign from God that He loves and forgives me, my children are the heart of God Himself loving and forgiving me without me even asking for it.
Please read the rest at Catholic Moms Talk. (The title of this post will make a lot more sense, promise.)
Just this little snippet was exactly what I needed to hear (well, read) today after a rough couple of days in the parenting trenches. What a gift to be reminded that not only am I supposed to be the face of Christ to my boys, they fill that role for me, too. Praise God for the tender mercy of my littles’ love for ‘imperfect me’. God bless.