God has made her beautiful. And still there’s something in my mommy flesh that bugs me sometimes: She’s not chunky.
This is the dumbest thing in the world. She is abundantly healthy. She’s just long and lean.
But she’s not like my first. Samuel was a big chubby babe at her age, and he’s still at the very top of the charts for his age.
He is the most hilarious 3 year old I know. He is a vibrant, energetic little guy.
And yet my mommy flesh wants to hide under a rock sometimes: he likes to hit other kids.
I’m not telling you this to complain about my cherished kids. Not at all.
I’m confessing that in my imperfect heart, I want perfect kids.
I want them to learn everything quickly, to be the life of the party, to love people, to accept Jesus, to always want to do what I want them to do.
This is sin.
I want these things for sinful reasons. I want mommyhood to be easy, and I want kids that make me look good.
Instead, I need to be on my knees thanking God for entrusting me with two of his precious babes.
I should be looking at their struggles as avenues for the gospel to come into their lives.
I should not be wondering how I can make them into perfect little clones of me.