My mastery of second guessing myself didn’t end when I became a mom. If anything, it became worse.
I second guess what the kids ate for lunch. I wonder if blonde, hazel-eyed charmer should be further along in his reading ability. When the endless sibling rivalry turns physical I think, “Didn’t I teach them better than this? Will they ever get along?”
Sometimes the worst critics are the ones running on repeat in our heads.
We teach them to share, to love their neighbor and show respect. But when we don’t see the fruits of our labor we question whether anything we say is sinking in. We hear the familiar Proverb to “train up a child in the way he should go” but when we don’t see visible results, we wonder what we’re doing wrong.
Instead of living in the present, we second guess the past.
A couple of weeks ago, God gave me a push of encouragement along with a wake-up call. My husband and I were settled into our comfy spots in the family room after tucking the kids in for the night. With the soft glow from the table lamp we read our devotional app and talked about its subject, prayer.
The teaching gave a blueprint. Begin with thanks and repentance, then present your requests to God in Jesus’ name.
As we sat there talking my mind went to our kids. Were we teaching them enough about prayer? My husband, as if reading my inner thoughts, said,
“Do you know what our son did tonight?”
“No.” And I secretly wondered if I wanted to.
“He thanked God for a good day at school and time playing at home. Then he asked God to place his hand on Coco and heal her.”
