Muscles tense, barley breathing, I creep past their doors. Each morning, I steal through the dark filled with dread at the prospect of the slightest creak of a floorboard.
Desperate to be alone for just a few minutes time,
I’m sneaking past my sleeping kids.
*
The first drop of coffee hits the mug and a steady thumping comes down from the stairs;
I’ve been found.
I’m caught between between irritation and guilt, and somehow muster the composure to greet her cheerfully…
and I feel like the worst mom in the world.
*
It all comes back to the slow dripping.
When every moment of every day is filled with people, snatching moments of quiet – moments to breathe - is like a search for buried treasure….a thrilling prospect, but often an fruitless endeavor. And as much as I love to be with my little ones,
I also *really* need time to be alone.
Not working. Not in charge.
I want that time in the morning. I purpose to rise before the sun, before the children, so that I may have uninterrupted time to meet with the Lord and rest. This is important, necessary, vital to the well-being of any mother {especially myself}
but I find that a slight change in attitude,
a softening of the heart and a shift away from my iron grip on that particular time slot, has brought a time to reach the heart of the one child I have trouble relating to.
She needs time with me. And before daybreak is the time she’s chosen. So while I desperately need time to myself, I also want nothing more than to win the hearts of my little ones – and often, that means rearranging my plans and desires to suit the time frame in which they are willing to be open to me.
A good exchange – my selfishness for her heart?
I’d say so.
{And yes, I’m still searching for some time alone.}
~~~~~~~~~~
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Category: Training Them Up |
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Tags: Mothering, photography
