Our Children for Our Joy

I dropped my son off at his school and yelled my usual through the rolled down window, "I love you. Make good choices. Obey your teacher." As I began to roll up the window and drive away, my little first grader took his small hand to his mouth and blew me a kiss. It was like everything stopped at that moment.

I realized how quickly this season would last. Would he blow me a kiss when he's 16 years old? I don’t know. I blew him a kiss back and he waved to me, mouthing the words "Bye, Mom." I was overwhelmed. I wished I could freeze that point in time.

Sweet Ragamuffins

I like to call my children sweet ragamuffins. Motherhood is challenging. My kids don't obey me every time I ask them to do something. They are rambunctious, loud, and messy. And they are sweet. They are gifts. Like many moms, I wouldn't trade it for anything. What I think we can so often forget, though, is that motherhood isn't a task to be checked off like laundry. It is a calling.

[Read the rest of the article at Desiring God.]