This morning I thought I’d burst from stress. It was imperative that I arrive at work early – by 6:50 a.m. I called for my two children repeatedly , and at long last, corralled them into the car for 6:30. By some sinister twist of fate, I wound up having to run back into the house a ridiculous THREE TIMES for things that the kids had forgotten.
Why is it so incredibly hard to get two kids fed, dressed and in the car in the morning? Nearly every morning is like going through labor – only without the thrill of the birth at the joyous end. “What have I done wrong?” I think to myself. “How could I have helped these kids to be more independent, more conscious of the need to be punctual?”
Sometimes, like today, I feel a bit guilty. I hate to admit it, but there are days when I enjoy being at work more than I enjoy being at home with my own children. I am often more patient with the children I teach that with my own. I guess that I expect more from my own, and often, they don’t fulfill those expectations. My children are the greatest blessings God has given me. How could I feel this way?
I bet that Mother Mary was eternally patient. I suspect that she knew just what to give and just what to withhold from Jesus. Surely, she was wise and gentle, consistent and caring. I hate it when I snap at my children. Immediately, I think disappointedly to myself, “Mother Mary never would have spoken to Jesus like this.”
Blessed Mother, please pray for me. Your standard of motherhood seems so unattainable to me most days. Ask God to give me wisdom, patience and all of the graces I need to do this job well. I know that raising these children to be God-loving, moral people destined for heaven is the most important job that the Lord has entrusted to me. Help me to do it well!