Love Your Child, Imperfections and All

 Emma, my 7 month old, is a sweet little thing. Even when upset, she will always give at least one little smile. She loves her family and allows Samuel to be a very rough big brother.

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.

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.