broken mothering

I was the tiger mom today, with this precious nine year old who would rather crawl in the mud than do his math.  Would rather swing in the barn than do his reading or climb the hills, than wash windows or make beds.  This nine year old with dreams bigger than this home and energy that pushes the limits. 


Oh to wish that they would never remember their tiger mom, and the sadness to know that they will. I can only hope that they will see His grace in me.  And then I slow down and sit down and watch them play, building houses and making towers and I see them with different eyes.  Then I reach for the hand that both shields and disciplines and walk through the refining fire that brings about peace and accept truth for the lies that I embraced this morning.  The lies that told me I had a reason to be impatient and the lies that say my needs are more important or that there was no other way than to hurt them with my eyes and break them with my tone.  It's so humbling being a mother and maybe someday I will meld and form to His image.   I can give thanks that He remains faithful to me.  Now to put on a smile and mend...