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This week, I’ve practically given up on changing my child's diapers and clothes. He’s been in an absolute terrible mood, on top of this, he feels the need to be moving at all times. This, of course, makes diaper changes and clothing changes a good 10-15 minute affair—the nursery workers at church will back me up on this.

Not only this, but because of that cranky attitude, he’s been up multiple times a night which means I’m up.

Finally, I crashed on the couch. Staring up at the ceiling saying, “Lord, if I have to change one more diaper, I will probably die.”

But he was crying again. So, I pulled myself up and I kept inching my way through the day. Another diaper changed. Another meal made. Another task completed. Another night I fell asleep before my head hit the pillow.

I think I forget what an honor it is to care for my family and what a ministry it is in the midst of my exhaustion.

When I found out I was pregnant, my mom sent me a letter. It started with these words:

“God looked across the earth and He saw no one better than you and Wesley to be this child’s parent. What an honor.”

I still tear up whenever I read these words. My heart caught between the burden of responsibility I have for this tiny life God has entrusted into my arms, and the thankful heart I have to be blessed with such a gift.

It is in these moments I remember life is not about how many meals I’ve made or how many diapers I’ve changed.

Life is about how God has redeemed us. God has given mothers the honor of showing our children, and families, what it looks like to unabashedly sit at the feet of Jesus.


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