If I could have anything I want for Mother’s Day, what would it be?
There are countless cliche things that come to mind: time for myself, huge bouquets of flowers, meals I don’t have to make, shopping trips, time with friends, sleeping in and uninterrupted sleep.
Yet somehow these aren’t the things I really want. There’s an ache in all of us for something bigger, deeper, more.
If I could truly have anything I want, these are the things I’d choose:
- To be a better mom.
I want to be a better mom to my little ones. Time is a-flyin’ and it makes my heart hurt to think how quickly they’re growing up.
I don’t want to miss these years. I want to see them–really see these precious children of mine, feel what they feel, hold them close, kiss their little hurts and protect them from bigger hurts.
I want to live fully alive and treasure the moments, the achingly sweet ones and the hilariously funny ones. I want to be sweeter, kinder, and more patient with them on the hard days. I want to parent them with so much grace and gentleness. Oh, I want to be all these and so much more!
- To be kinder to myself
Paradoxically, I want to be kinder to myself. I want to learn better how to let the hard days go, give them to God and forgive myself.
I want to make healthy boundaries for myself so I can be a healthy mom. I want to practice the sort of kindness and care to myself that I want my children to give themselves.
- To be less encumbered with the cares of life.
I am learning, so slowly it seems, to forgive more and to stress, obsess and worry less. I want to learn these lessons better yet.
I want to live above petty things and be unshaken by minor blips in life. I want to laugh more and live more fully with joy and abandon.
I want to seize chances and be spontaneous, be silly, be goofy. I want to be unselfish, be loving, be caring and gentle and kind.
I want to scatter kindness like confetti and hold contentment like a precious gift.
- To be more contented.
Yes, I want to be more contented. I want real contentment–the kind that doesn’t need to look at others to be reminded that my life is good.
I want to be one who smiles just because I’m loved, sings because He gives me joy, and forgives because He forgives me. Not because my circumstances are perfect. Not because my life is free of trouble. But just because of Jesus.
I also want to remember the ways I am blessed. There are so many.
I want to remember the mother with a child in heaven. I want to remember the grandmothers who went before me and their tireless sacrifices. I want to remember those who have nothing of my everything. I want to remember and, in the remembering, grow more grateful and less stingy.
These are the gifts I would choose for myself this Mother’s Day. Ironically, they are gifts I can give myself–gifts that only I can give myself.
With these gifts and the gift of a perfectly ordinary Mother’s Day, there’s nothing more to wish for, is there?