Listen, people, raising teens sans swearing is Ghandi-ish and, of course, Christ-like. Apparently, I was neither during the teen years. While I always strive to put my best Jesus foot forward, the tumultuous season shoved my potty mouth backwards.
Which brings me to the importance of taking an inventory of our less-than Christ-like behaviors. Starting with believing something is a spade when someone calls it one. Especially if that “something” is worthy enough to find homage in our kid’s Hallmark holiday poem. Then we need to take heed and put a fork into any hope of our mothering faults slipping by unnoticed.
Yippee, all moms.
In my case, recognizing my poor behavior was poem-worthy left me a bit dazed. For as fast as my son’s previous sentiments sprung me to the peak of mothering Everest, his gregarious poke sent me back down the rocky terrain towards death by pride.
And God no doubt thunder clapped me to victory, because every descent of self creates opportunity for a humble ascent of character. Though reading about my swearing prowess gave me all the negative feels a decade ago, I knew the spiritual death of my untamed tongue would plant a seed for the resurrection of something holier and whole.
My son shed light on this truth as he concluded his poem:
I love my mom so dearly
As you can see most clearly
And she loves me…
Ah. New life and a chance to find my way to the summit of healthy mothering.
Regardless of how life pans out, the most important thing for us as mothers is that our kids know without question how much we love them. Period.
None of us will ever be perfect. God knows I’ll be as real as real gets until the day He calls me home. But, as long as my kids never doubt my love, all is well with my soul.
Keep it real in love, crazy Mommas!
This article originally appeared at ShelbySpear.com.