I am not the sculptor

~by Veronica G

First I'll say that I seriously love my children, and am so blessed by their lives.

Second I'll tell you that I have been blowing motherhood, and I've seen the error of my ways.

I've always wanted children, and when I had my baby I was the happiest woman in the world. My dreams had come true. I flaunted my baby like I was walking the red carpet. He was so cute, and such a good sleeper. Because of these things, I considered myself the best mother in the universe and daily thanked God for my awesomeness.

The Best Family in the World!

I was so stoked on my amazing motherness, that I couldn't wait to have another baby. I was so good at this motherhood thing, I thought, "Why shouldn't I be making more of these little people to glorify God myself?" So we had another!

Yay two babies!

But then things got harder, and my children got bigger, they got more active, they were still cute, but sleeping less, and didn't want to fit into the boxes I was trying to keep them in.

I became overwhelmed. I was embarrassed about these noisy, active creatures that God had blessed trusted cursed me with. I felt nervous going anywhere. I felt like any look towards us was a look of judgement, "What a horrible mother! Can't she keep those kids under control?"

I felt the (non-existent?) judgement in my heart, and my heart became bruised, bitter, scared and angry. I grew to resent my children, and their noise.

You dressed me up for Church? I'm still gonna cry!

They separated me from God. They distracted me in Church.  I hated shushing the kids in mass, I hated holding their squirming bodies - pinned between my knees - to hold them still. I hated feeling like the only option was physical punishment or threatening them to "Be Still! Be Quiet!" (options I didn't want to choose) Even more than this, I hated the cry room, a sign that I was removed from the congregation at church.  I felt unwelcome, cast out and unloved.  I felt the opposite of the Bible story where Jesus says, "bring the children to me".

I felt so far from God. I knew that I should be relying more fully on him - but I couldn't even get a second to listen to Him.  After one stressful Mass, the communion hymn was "Have mercy on us for we have sinned." My husband and I changed it it "Have mercy on us for we have kids."  It was the best prayer we could make at that time, it made us smile, and we've been using it ever since.

Have mercy on us, for we have kids

That was a good moment in our marriage, but there have been so many hard ones.  These children separated us as our marriage began to focus on containing their endless energy.  Instead of building each other up, we were being torn down by the kids, and then tearing down each other with our minute failures in parenting, grocery shopping, tidying.  It has been a hard, hard year.

Everywhere I went, I felt the judgement of people whose children were calmer than mine.  I felt that my modern day leprosy was my children - and nobody wanted to be around me.  I felt unwelcome everywhere.

In response, I continued to cram these kids into a box, hoping I could put the lid on - and they'd finally be quiet, be still, be "good".  I felt like I was constantly trying to crush their spirits, and I didn't like the mother I was becoming.

I thought about myself as a child. I was "Spirited". I drove my mother crazy. But she loved me. She also showed me God, and always pointed me towards heaven.  I know that God loves me, and made me perfectly, even in my "spirited-ness" and I'm grateful for the woman I am, even in my "failings".  If God made me perfectly, then these children must be perfect too.

My babies grew. My son still sucks his thumb, but he also knows phonics. He helps with "his baby" sister, a toddler now who just started climbing out of her crib yesterday. I'm realizing she's not a baby anymore either. She's picking up new words every day, and surprises me with her cunning skill and determination to conquer challenges.

I've been placing these children before God and praying for them. I've been asking God to help me parent them.  I've been asking God to help me accept them, and my place in life.  I'm not a leper  I'm a mother. While my faith feels a little dry lately, I have to remember that God has been filling me my entire life, and preparing me for these arid years.  He's been sculpting me and planning these small people - just for me.

Just because a new baby is soft and pliable, it doesn't mean WE are the sculptor.
That job belongs to God. 

I'm so sorry that I didn't see it before. I'm sorry that I was cramming my children in one box, and resenting the (loud, active) beauty that God gave them.  I'm learning to love them. No, that's wrong. I love them, and I always have. I've always wanted what was best for them.  I want them to grow and be beautiful, God loving, faithful people full of mercy, love and forgiveness.  I'm sorry that I thought that meant they had to be quiet and be still.

God works in many ways, and He can use us all for His purposes.  I no longer come to Mass hoping for a mystical experience. I no longer hope to hear all of the readings, or the homily, or even pray deeply during the consecration. I come to mass, before God, with the family He's given me, and I say, "Here we are God. We are here for You.  Thank you for loving us. Do what You will, and good luck!!"

I pray for my children, that they'll one day know God as I know Him. That one day they'll be so in love with God that they'll be annoyed that their own children are distracting them from Mass, or serving on the altar as Priests, offering the acceptance, mercy, love and forgiveness that God gives so freely - yet we frequently forget. I'm glad I was reminded.