To become or not to become?

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So many of us vow never to become our parents.  We promise ourselves we’ll be better. We’ll do things differently.  It seems to be part of growing up to believe you are wiser than the people who clothed you, sent you to school, fed you, hugged you, spanked you, and loved you the best way they knew how.  The sad truth is that so many children live in homes with no love or support.  Some kids have not known parental love.
I've only been doing this whole “mom” bit for 9 months.  There is no way I am( or ever will be) an expert.  I luckily have quite the example in my parents.   My father is a maintenance man and has been for over 30 years.  My mother worked the graveyard shift when we were little.  She was home when we woke up, there to pick us up from school, made and served dinner, put us to bed, THEN went to work.  Mom and Dad made it happen.  Not only did they provide wonderfully, they loved us.

They loved us.  Love is a word we throw around quite a bit.  It is said without meaning, it is used in place of lust, and it is even used to describe the way we feel toward a new handbag or pair of jeans. 

Corinthians 13:4-7: Love is patient, love is kind.  It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

I read this and hang my head low knowing I do not love this way.  Sure at times I am patient, kind, and selfless.  Too often I lose sight of my goal to love more purely.  It is in the times I am lost and hopeless that I look to my parents for motivation.  Motivation to love Miles and Robby in this way.  I want so badly for my son to see our love and emulate it.  I fully know that is what my parents were doing when they kissed at the kitchen sink while doing dishes.  Or when my Dad got home from work and ran to the backyard to join us in the kiddy pool or play PIG.  Band-aids and kisses, waffles and ice cream for dinner, lending me the car, helping me move to NYC at the ripe old age of 18, taking us in when we had nowhere to live after moving here, babysitting so Robby and I could have a night out, the list goes on.  What they do proves they love us, trust us, are hopeful for our futures, and will persevere. 
I do not know what the future holds for my little family.  Maybe we’ll have more kids, maybe we’ll move to Timbuktu, maybe we’ll get famousJ. 
I know this for sure…If I become half the parent mine are, everything will be A-OK. 

Love on!

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