Angry eyes the exact shade of mine, with a scowl mimicking the one of my own face, glare at me in the rearview mirror.
“You are the meanest mom ever.”
I want to scream, rant, throw a fit and…. well…. act like a 6-year-old kid.
And that’s when it hits me: This child in my mirror, is my mirror.
I understand him. It doesn’t make the rough start of the day any easier, but i get it, I really do.
It started with a tooth. A missing tooth, to be more precise.
I know it’s just a tooth, but to this 6 year-old-boy glaring at me in the mirror, he can’t think of anything more exciting to show off to his friends at recess than his tooth. But that tooth is lost.
If only he knew how precious his tooth was to me also. Forever a reminder of the little boy I love so very much, leaving a little bit of his childhood behind in that misplaced tooth.
I pull up to school and order him to the front of the van for a kiss and hug before he leaps out in the drop-off lane to start his day. I roll the window down as he continues his irritated scowl and yell, “I love you so much… I hope you know that!”
Then I see a glimpse of it, the flicker in his eyes (and his precious heart) that knows how much we love each other.
How can I be so irritated with a boy who is me? He loves like me, he fights like me, he’s stubborn like me….. He is ME.
Forever we will be a part of each other. There are moments in the van after I drop off my boys that I have to take a deep breath and sit and pray for those precious boys asking God to redirect my soul.
My son has shown me parts of myself that I refused to see for years. He’s my tiny mirror. He’s showing me the things I’ve done right and the things that his mommy is miserably failing at.
I stare in the mirror– not really looking at myself but looking to see deep inside my soul. And, at times like these, I don’t like what I see.
Jesus– please show my what you see.
He speaks to me as tears sprout out of my eyes and I start to miss the little booger who drove me absolutely crazy 15 minutes earlier.
Erin- you are treasured, you are sacred, you are MINE.
The song repeats in my head, but its not just a song on my radio in this moment. It’s a message for me: I am treasured.
What does this mean? Keep carefully, value highly.
I am treasured. I am sacred.. I am YOURS?
It’s a reminder that my sons, my husband, and I… we are all His, that I need to look at what Jesus is telling me– what Jesus sees not only in me but my precious boys.
That’s the message, that’s the picture. Thats what God’s reminding in the minivan on this teary morning.
I wish I could say that I haven’t had a mommy freak out moment where I lose my ever-loving mind since… but I can’t.
I can tell you that I’m trying and that I know Jesus is standing right next to me cheering me on and I raise this precious boy who takes after his mama, and I smile as I thank my Jesus for this sweet reminder.