5 Ways to Love Your Kids When You're Running on Empty

My son, Caleb, has a new way of telling us how tired he is. He gives us a percentage.
“Mom, my legs are 35%, ” he declares in the middle of downtown Atlanta on vacation.
“Mom, my legs are 8%,” he warns in the line at the grocery store.
“0%. No power,“ he calmly states as he wilts into the ground at Sam’s Club.”

And when I see him there, a part of me thinks, “Me too, buddy. Me too.”

0%. No power.

I so want to love my children like my battery is at 100% all the time, but I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how in the world that could happen.

My mom did it. She managed to create an atmosphere of love and care in our home when she had to have been at 0% a time or two herself. Even now, my mom is still doing everything she can to remind me of how loved I am.

In a few days, it will be my birthday. My mom is a master of birthdays and holidays. She makes me feel like I’m are the only important person in the world. She tells me what she loves about me. She sends me thoughtful gifts. She asks to spend time with me, but she doesn’t demand my attention. She calls me and texts me and reminds my siblings to call and text.  And those are just what I get when I’m a thirty-five-year-old adult living states away.

My mom’s example is sometimes overwhelming to me. How did she find time to love us so well even one day a year? How did she do it day after day after day? How did she find the strength to pursue us when we pulled away, to listen to us when we weren’t making any sense, and to do just the right thing we needed it?

After reflecting a little myself, I think I’ve figured out how my mom loved me when I know her batteries were running low:

She listened. When chatter spilled from my mouth about friends and people and ideas and activities, she always made me feel like my story was interesting and important. She asked follow-up questions, made understanding faces, and stopped what she was doing to hear me.

She included me in her world. Whether it was a trip to the grocery store or a stop by the Dairy Queen, my mom always invited me and my siblings to come. Sometimes she made us go with her when we didn’t want to, but even though we were mad, there was something about being wanted and valued that made us feel important, and we never knew when a trip to the grocery store and a trip to Dairy Queen might be one and the same.

She told me. My mom was great at telling us she loved us, at praising us for our efforts and for our character. She noticed what I did and told me about it. I felt noticed and affirmed and loved.

She thought about me. My parents would often come home from a date night or a trip or an errand with an extra treat for us. Something about the way mom said, “ I bought those chips you like” sounded to me like, “I love you and know what you like and went out of my way to make sure you know that I was thinking of you today.” For all I know, chips were on her list, but it felt special to me.

She forgave me. I had a bit of a temper growing up. I can be direct. I am not the sensitive and thoughtful woman that my mom is. But every time I stepped out of bounds, my mom forgave me, most of the time before I asked. “There’s nothing you can do to make me stop loving you, but I love you too much to let you act this way,” she would say.

In our material society, loving our kids sometimes feels like so many tasks: making them elaborate Valentine’s boxes and taking them to the zoo and feeding them homemade bread and doing and planning and performing. These things drain my battery all the way to 0%.

But listening doesn’t cost anything, and bringing my son Nathan along to Sam’s Club to get frozen yogurt and have a conversation about nothing doesn’t take any extra time. Telling Isaac that I love it when he smiles and gives me a thumbs up or making sure Caleb’s burger has pickles on it—just the way he likes it—doesn’t take too much energy.

Letting my kids know that nothing they can do will stop me from loving them fills all of us with the energy we need to face a new day.
It’s not the elaborate tasks that charge our batteries. It’s the simple and consistent ones.

Originally written by Laura Wailes for Mothering Beyond Expectations.

Soak Up the Dew

How do you recover after the worst kind of night? The hour after hour of sleep-eluding desperation followed by the morning light creeping in at the edges making you despise the very thing that’s ushering in the new mercies—the dawn.

The only way I know how to survive those sanity-killing nights (like the ones I’ve had lately) is to become a succulent—someone who can live off the dew.

Flood yourself with the scriptures when your brain is coherent and even when it isn’t, so that through the night and in the awful morning, you’ll have a heavy dew of truth to sustain you. Let even the mist and residue of God’s Word feed your soul.

This is warfare. We don’t read the Bible to feel like good Christians or to check it off the list or as a photo op. We do it because it’s our life and water and we don’t want to die of thirst.

There are a million things that you can fill yourself up with that will ultimately starve you. Junky movies, trivial books, shop therapy, shallow friendships, image building. But God’s word makes us impenetrable when we’re hidden in Christ. His holy people are his grace in our lives. So we soak up the dew and lean on his body and live.

Originally shared by Abigail Dodds.

Slow Down, Weary Mom

I heard him cry in the monitor.

Seriously? I thought. Three straight nights of post-bedtime tears. I was so over it.

Walking up the stairs, I devised a scheme to get me out of his room as quickly as possible. But as my feet hit the hallway leading into his bedroom, I felt God’s gentle nudge.

Slow down. He needs lullabies of grace tonight.

I took a deep breath of faith, and for the next forty minutes, I sang my scared little boy to sleep. My lullabies had calmed and quieted his four-year-old soul.

Like a Weaned Child with His Mother

I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me. (Psalm 131:2)

How does God calm and quiet our souls? Like a mother.

Most of us have witnessed, in some way, the soul-calming effect of a mother’s presence on her child. There is safety with a mother, just as there is safety in the Father’s arms (Isaiah 33:2). The child hears peace in her voice just as the sheep hear peace in the Good Shepherd’s (John 10:27).

When a child is hurt or scared or sick, he calls for his mother. He trusts her completely. If the mother he trusts teaches him that there is one in whom his soul can trust even more, then hopefully, one day, he will cry out for Jesus instead.

God’s good purpose for mothers goes beyond feedings and diapers and taxi services. He designed you, dear mother, to be your child’s first glimpse of his comforting love for us in Christ. No one is better suited for this job than you. What a privilege, then, for you to put God’s soul-soothing character on display for your children.

Rooted in God

In the message “Join Me in Soul-Satisfaction in God,” John Piper says, “Psalm 131 is about a kind of contentment, or stillness, or quietness of soul, that is rooted not in circumstances, but in God — a God who never changes in his utter commitment to us in Christ.”

If we desire for our children’s souls to be rooted in God as he describes, then we as mothers have the great responsibility of providing a climate that is prime for growth. Root systems thrive in rich soil and sunlight. With ideal conditions early on, roots are able to absorb water and nutrients that eventually help the plant thrive in less than desirable circumstances.

Nourish Your Child

The monsters and thunderstorms that induce fear in our children’s hearts right now will turn one day into real-life demons and tempests. We can begin the good work of preparing their souls for battle today. When our children come to us afraid or anxious, we have the God-ordained privilege of offering them rich soil and sunshine. Our hugs, snuggles, words, and lullabies are life-giving minerals to their souls.

How do we nourish our children? We offer them steadfast love and faithfulness. We bear with them, forgive them, show them kindness, listen to them, and offer them words of encouragement and life by sharing the good news of Jesus Christ on a daily basis.

Drench your child in God’s word. Shine light into his darkness. Sing him to sleep. Take your child by the hand and lead him to streams of water so that God can plant his roots down deep and allow him to bear good fruit in the coming seasons (Psalm 1:3).

Lay Down Your Life

Motherhood is exhausting. It requires all of our energy — both mental and physical — and at the end of the day, it’s not uncommon to feel like we’re doing it all in vain. At times, it feels like you’re giving up your life for your child. If it does, be encouraged that you’re probably doing it right.

By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers. (1 John 3:16)

As we lay down our lives for our for our brothers and sisters in Christ, we also lay down our lives for our children. Today, take the time to kiss the boo-boos, wipe the tears, and sing lullabies of grace. Let your children rest in the comfort of your presence now so that they learn to rest in Jesus soon.

Originally written for Desiring God by Chelsea Stanley of Daughter Redeemed.