I am not perfect

Recently my 4 year old daughter has been complaining, "You never play with me. You only play with my brother." Cut to the heart, I have done everything I can to spend more time with her, take her places where she can thrive, make sure she has plenty of attention... Today was a good day. Or so I thought until I tucked her into bed. "Mommy, I'm a little sad," she suddenly said, her eyes unconsciously getting a little bigger and sadder. "What's wrong?" I asked. And here it was again, "You never play with me. You don't take care of me. You only take care of my brother." Really? REALLY???? After saying everything I could, I left the room in despair.

And I instantly started recounting everything I have done for this child. I gave up a very promising career for her. I nursed her until she was 3. I hardly slept for 2 and a half years, kicked and poked and pushed, so that she could feel close to mommy all night. I poured myself into her developmentally. And I do nothing all day but take her to playgrounds, mommy and me classes, feed her, dress her, bathe her, brush her teeth... The laundry needs to be done, the dishes are in the sink, my dissertation needs to be written, the church needs volunteers, and yet I so love her that I think of almost nothing but how I can be a better mom for her and her brother, and I pour, pour, pour all that I am into them, endlessly, falling down exhausted at the end of the day... And THIS is what I get??? Arggghhhhhhh!!!!!!

I could hardly pray, I was in such despair over my apparent inability to give her what she needs from me. But after a long time of sitting and thinking through my list of unappreciated, heroic motherly deeds, I opened a book I'm reading on the cross. And I came face-to-face with another list, a list I can hardly bear to face.

Because, to be honest, this morning I lost my tempter with my daughter, because I was so annoyed by her whining over not wanting me to brush her hair. I yelled. I shook my finger in her face. I made her feel as bad as I felt at that moment. At the playground I was still frustrated, and I ignored her for about 5 full minutes. We got over it, but it isn't like that didn't happen. And it isn't like I've never said hurtful things to her before today. :-( Truth be told, I am not a perfect mom, as much I want to be. In fact, as my deep maternal love has driven me to push and push and push at the limits of my humanity, I have actually hit the walls beyond which I cannot go and despaired that I am not divine. I am nowhere close. I cannot be everywhere at once. I cannot be endlessly energetic. I cannot eradicate annoyance and frustration and the temptations they provoke in me. And worse of all, I do not seem to be able to completely avoid sin.

As I read my book, I realized that no matter how hard I work, no matter what I try, as a human there WILL be a list that my daughter will be able to write against me, should she choose. And my good efforts and works will not mean that the list isn't true. But I also saw the smile of God, the one who, when he saw that list of my yelling, my demeaning words, my hurtful thoughts, my bad attitudes - he nailed that list into his own flesh and covered it with his blood until it could no longer be read. And in so doing, he made forgiveness - real forgiveness, not the type that says, "You didn't really hurt me," but that faces truthfully, "Yes, you hurt me terribly..." - possible. Possible even between me and my deeply, deeply beloved daughter.