Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

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Sacrifices

I’m holding my four-month-old son, who for some reason this week, has occasionally decided his bed is not the place for sleeping longer than a few minutes. As I type, he slumbers contentedly on my lap. A minute ago, he was screaming his head off in his bed. He didn’t nap well today or yesterday. He’s tired. I’m tired. On the plus side, his sister is sound asleep without too much fuss, although 45 minutes ago, I was sure I had entered a contest to see how many children I could make unhappy at one time.

Before I was a mother, I knew this was part of the deal, and by “this” I mean the lack of sleep, the giving of yourself even when you have nothing left to give. Most people know that mothers — most mothers — give up a lot for their children. Until I was a mother, I didn’t know just how much.

Some of the things I, and other moms I know, have sacrificed:

  • Personal privacy — “Mommy, you going potty?” Isabelle asks loudly, usually in a public place, like church.
  • Personal space — When I’m trying to rock Corban to sleep or feed him in our orange swivel-rocking chair, Isabelle undoubtedly wants to squeeze in with us. If we’re on the couch, usually the three of us are on the same cushion.
  • Peace of mind — Even when they’re healthy and sleeping soundly, I don’t feel like I ever completely relax about my children’s well-being. Lately, I’ve been envisioning all kinds of horrible things that might happen to them and trying to put those thoughts out of my mind. I know I can’t protect them from everything, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.
  • Clean clothes — Seldom do I make it through an entire day without spit up, drool, water, food, stickers, marker and who knows what else on an article of clothing. Isabelle, particularly, likes to wipe her hands on my pants instead of using a napkin. Miss Manners would faint at our house.
  • And while we’re on the subject, a clean house — I’ve never been a great housekeeper, but I’ve never been a slob, either. Since having kids, I have an almost-constant desire to clean, with little to no follow-through. Case in point, there’s hardly a clean dish in our kitchen, but now it’s the end of the day, and I’m tired. Plus, the aforementioned baby is still asleep on my lap. The dishes will always be there, that’s what seasoned mothers tell me, but I don’t really want to be known for my mold collection, either.
  • Conversation — I’ve never been a great conversationalist. I’m even worse now. I hardly ever watch the news. I don’t read the paper (a journalist’s sin!). I spend most days with my kids and husband, and people will only listen so long to another story about the escapades of a 2-year-old, no matter how funny.
  • Caffeine and chocolate — My kids will hear about this when they’re older. Every now and then, I give in to the chocolate temptation, but I pay for it later with a fussy baby.

Geez, when I write them out like that, I seem selfish and shallow. None of those things can make me smile or give me an unforgettable memory like my two God-given blessings. Nor do any of those things compare to the ultimate sacrifice a Father gave of His son.

John 3:16 took on a whole new meaning for me after I had children. God so loved the world that He gave His only son to die in our place. I can’t imagine willingly giving my only child to save the life of someone who hated me and might never have a relationship with me.

What a great sacrifice, indeed.

Numbers don’t lie

Last Friday night, I found myself both appalled and inspired as I watched two hours of “Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution.” If you’re not familiar with the show, check out this link: http://www.jamieoliver.com/campaigns/jamies-food-revolution.

One of the most shocking parts of the show was when Jamie visited a local family and collected all the food they ate for a week. Their diet consisted of fried donuts for breakfast, pizza for snacks, hot dogs and a whole bunch of other processed junk-type food. As I watched, I swelled with pride. At least I don’t feed my family that, I thought. We don’t always eat the best stuff, but we at least cook from scratch as much as we can and eat fruits and vegetables.

Fast forward to today. I was reading about childhood obesity in my most recent Parenting magazine. The article provided a Web address for a BMI (body mass index) calculator on the CDC site (http://www.cdc.gov/). Our 2-year-old daughter had just been to the doctor, so I thought I’d check it out.

According to the CDC, she’s obese. Obese??? And so are the rest of us. Now, I know that none of us are at our ideal weight points, but “obese” isn’t the word I’d use to describe us. “Obese” is reserved for “The Biggest Loser” types, right?

One of the aspects of “Food Revolution” that surprised me was the unwillingness of the people to listen to what Oliver had to say. Watching from the outside, it was easy to see that what he said had merit. But less than a week after judging their attitudes, I found myself in the same state: denial. As if I don’t have enough parenting worries, now I have the nagging thought in the back of my mind that I might be killing my children.

The validity of BMI as a diagnostic tool  seems to be in question. Perhaps it’s better as a guideline than a rule. For me, at least, it was a wake-up call. Spring is here, and even though it’s a chore to get three people — me, a 2-year-old and a 4-month-old — ready to go outside, we need to make the effort because we need the exercise.

And, it was another opportunity for God to show me an area where I could be more humble. As I thought about my reaction to the family on the TV show, this story from Scripture came to mind:

To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’

“But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’

“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.” (Luke 18:9-14, NIV)

Obese or not, I need to remember that I’m no better than anyone else, and all of us need God’s mercy.