The time of business does not differ with me from the time of prayer.
And in the noise and clatter of my kitchen, while several persons are at the same time calling for different things, I possess God in as great tranquility as if I were on my knees.
You keep trying to teach me to see You and hear You in their faces and their voices, and I keep stubbornly clinging to my god-in-a-box as though this little deity I’ve crafted for myself is You. You keep coming after me, pursuing me with dauntless brown eyes and unfettered lips, and I keep thinking about my agenda, my needs, my wants.
I am a wretchedly self-centered person.
And I have asked again and again for You to teach me how to be selfless.
So You come to me for juice and milk and crackers and bird wings and dragon tails while I am cooking or cleaning or folding laundry or praying or grading. Keeping busy to disconnect in some futile effort to be alone in my own thoughts where I am in charge.
And I keep asking You to make me into the mom they need and still I cling to tasks and resist and think of myself first.
I am wretchedly selfish.
They have learned much from the feet of their mother. That selfishness in them that repulses me poisons my own blood. I poured that blood into their veins when they grew inside me, and I heightened its potency with every self-seeking act I paraded before them. We are, all three of us, a triumvirate of me firsts.
But You make us new. You speak new life into our bodies and place a glory heart in our chests that You make brave and mighty against the cowardice of self-first futility. I am new, because You are ever within me and You are always new.
I hear You now. I see You. I am listening. I am watching. I am new and so very brave, because You are ever with me, loving me into Yourself with such relentless tenderness.
Don’t let my legacy for them be that mama taught them to be selfish, Lord. Please. Let them learn from me that You are good and right and true and worth every last bit of it all and then infinitely more. Let them learn from me that in the middle of all this living, all this messing up, all this stumbling, that the bravest warrior keeps her heart fixed on the King Whose Name she bears, that the courageous one puts all his hope in this Jesus Who Rescues, that the valiant one knows he is valiant because the Spirit makes him so.
I am not selfish. I was once.
But You made me new.
I am selfless, because You say I am.
Help me live according to who You make me, not according to who I once was.