2015, in many ways, was a challenging year for me. I really hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be to have a toddler underfoot while trying to educate my three spirited young girls and maintain a peaceful, orderly, and clean home. Amidst the chaos, I lost focus. I became weighted down by duties, responsibilities, and self-imposed expectations. Life became a battle to keep my head above water and just survive. My well laid plans for my restful Charlotte Mason homeschool became a bunch of checklists that I was failing to check off each day/week.

This feeling of drowning under diapers and duty had a snowball effect on how I treated my children. They became the object of too many mommy meltdowns. I yelled far too often at work not completed in my scheduled time or when asked to read another story while trying to cook dinner (or any other time that I was busy…which was almost always), not to mention the incessant sibling squabbles. I became increasingly grumpy the more overwhelmed I felt, and I began to view the children as an annoyance, getting in the way of what I needed to get done. I had lost sight of the fact that my calling was to raise and educate them. My children should have been my focus, not my checklist.

I knew that these meltdowns were sinful. I knew that I was completely over-reacting to the circumstance. But I just couldn’t seem to pull myself out of it. The more I melted down, the more guilty I felt, the more I thought myself the worst mother in the world, the more I melted down. You get the picture.

After one such afternoon as a grumpy mommy, E-Age-7 came to me while I was preparing dinner and asked if I would let her watch TV. We are strict on screen time for our kids and this was a request outside of approved viewing time. I looked at her with exasperation, replying with a resounding “NO!” and reminding her abruptly that she knew it wasn’t TV day. She accepted my answer without fuss and continued to loiter around the kitchen (much to my annoyance) as I continued to prepare dinner. A few moments later she began again.

“Thank you, Mum.”

“What for?” I replied. “I said no about the TV.”

She shrugged her shoulders as she answered. “I know. I meant thank you for everything that you do for us.”

She then promptly ran off to play with her sisters.

I was stunned. I was immediately ashamed of myself and at the same time filled with an overwhelming love for my children. My child had just showed me the grace that I had failed to show them. They had showed me the grace that I had been praying for. They didn’t view me as the worst mother in the world. They didn’t hang on to every meltdown as if that was the one that was going to destroy their lives. They loved me unconditionally. They forgave me.

That was the moment that changed me. God used my sweet child to answer my prayer. He used her to remind me who I am and what I’m here for. He used her to remind me who they are. My children are persons in their own right. They are made in God’s image, individuals made with their own distinct personalities. They were not an item on my To Do List. They were living, breathing human beings who were to be loved, cherished, nurtured, and enjoyed.

It was at this same moment that I was reminded of what I had been studying in God’s Word.

“In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live though him. In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.” (1 John 4:9-11)

More than providing a good education, more than keeping a clean home, more than keeping checklists, I am to love my children because God first loved me and sent His son to die for me.

Happy New Year!