Tuesday, December 6, 2011

On Being a Broken Momma.

Oak on the Mountain

When I recently asked if there was something in particular that you, my readers, would like for me to write about, Maria suggested some advice about raising two Godly boys. I had to chuckle. Out of everyone in the world to give advice about mommyhood, I feel about the last in line for the job. I feel as though I fail daily, hourly, heck, even minute by minute. There are many days I shut the door to my boy’s rooms as they go to sleep and feel an inch tall thinking about what I did or didn’t do as a mom. I am far from knowing the perfect formula for raising children, much less young men. Yet when I sat back to ponder how I would even respond to the question of how to raise young men, my heart kept going back to a common theme creeping up in my life lately: brokenness.

I have briefly mentioned in several other blog posts about the family drama that seems to encircle my family right now. In an effort to respect and honor all parties involved I have withheld the information at hand. Right now putting words to what my family (both immediate and extended) has gone through over the past year just wouldn’t be right. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you that through what is going on I have found myself at a new, deeper than I could have ever imagined, level of brokenness. Dreams I had once dreamed have been shattered, hopes that I had for my children have been seemingly crushed, and I have been left with many questions that I am unsure will ever be answered this side of Heaven. Yet, even in those moments when I find myself on my knees crying out to God with the “why’s” and the “how’s” God has gently whispered that He will make beauty from ashes (Isaiah 61:3). His whispers do not erase the hurt and the anger that I have experienced, but it has given me hope that through it all, somehow, it will be made whole again.

I suppose after reading that paragraph you might be scratching your head and wondering how in the world that links to parenting. It doesn’t seem like it does at first, does it? What I have learned over the past 2.5 years of parenting is that I could never know it all. I could read every parenting and how-to book that is out there, but despite my most valiant efforts I will never be able to measure up to be that “perfect mom” persona. That’s not God’s plan. In fact, it’s probably the farthest from God’s plan in parenting. God wants us to be broken parents. Broken moms. Moms who daily cry out to God as we start our day to fill in the void where we fail. For it is in our brokenness that God is able to be glorified. And it is in our brokenness that our children, regardless of gender, see Jesus. If we express to them and demonstrate to them that their mommas and daddy’s have a desperate need for Jesus, then they too will be drawn to that same sense of brokenness. It is what I pray for my boys: that they will know that without Jesus, we are nothing. Nothing we do or say will ever amount to anything if we do not live in such a way that shows to the world our desperate need for a Savior. I am learning to accept the fact that I will fail my boys. Over and over and over again. Yet, it is in my failure that God is able to love my boys beyond what I could ever do alone. My prayer is that the ashes of my brokenness will be made beautiful in time. That my boys will become oaks of righteousness that will glorify the One true God. (Isaiah 61:3). And that, my friends, is the bedrock of how I plan on raising Godly young men.

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