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Am I alone or do you feel like you buy 742 pairs of socks and instead of having any in your the top dresser door, they are just strewn about begging to be matched up with their long lost soul mate?
But instead of matching socks I spend approximately 264 minutes each week running my kids to dance and cheer leading…
My efforts to reduce obesity in America. Actually, my kids feel like they spend so much time in the car they pretend we are living in the van.
It is as if the book, Sh*tty Mom, was written for me. Some days I wonder if they brushed their teeth, wore clean socks or the same pair they wore the last three days, and if we actually turned in homework or left it sitting on the counter. I am sure my kids look like there mother didn’t look at them before they jumped out of the door so she could race to her meeting 60 miles away more than I think.
There are days I am on policy conference calls while in car line at school or talking to the school nurse about some mysterious object stuck in my son’s ear during a business lunch. And when I can’t find my lipstick I should just check with my daughter, she probably has it one of
her my purses she carries with her everywhere.
But then I am reminded…dirty socks and crazy hair and lost homework and conference calls and business lunches really will not matter in a month or a year or even a decade. But making sure that my kids know they are loved by not only me, but a very gracious and merciful God is so much more important. And this weekend, it took my seven year old son reminded me of this.
He nonchalantly told me as he was trying to stretch the time before lights out that while he was playing football at our neighbor’s annual fish fry, he asked one of the boys if he believed in Jesus. The boy responded yes, but he doesn’t get to go to church a lot. Boo was relieved. The very next day as he was playing with a boy from down the road, he noticed a bible sitting in his room. He asked this boy the same thing. And got the yes reply. Once again he was relieved. I was shocked. Both of these boys are considerably older than my son. Both boys don’t go to school with him or even live next door all the time as they split time between their broken up parents. But, Boo didn’t worry one bit of what they might think of him or even that they would think anything of his question. When I asked him why he decided to ask them this question, his answer was simple. “Mom, I just want to make sure they believe that Jesus died for them so they can be in heaven with me someday.”
Well, it doesn’t get anymore important than that. And while I will be hard on myself about my parenting flaws and guilty about not being everything I see other moms be, I can sleep a bit more sound at night knowing I have shared the love of Jesus with my kids and one day, hopefully not soon, they will be in heaven with me.