Moms have to watch it.
It is our responsibility to be a consistent source of encouragement to our children.
However, it is also our privilege to offer a constant source of honesty and truth.
Since last week, my children have been bringing me thoughtful gift, after cheerful greeting. I've heard the phrase, "Happy Mother's Day" no fewer than 88 times recently. What a blessed woman I am. Seriously.
I've cheerfully accepted old undershirts decorated with pink construction paper and scotch tape that read "World's Greatest Mom". I've tapped my toes and clapped my hands to innumerable renditions - using countless stylistic approaches by way of props and wardrobe - of "Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star" performed in my honor.
I've patiently smiled as I am offered a "Mother's Day Surprise" - which turned out to be a hand packed mud pie, complete with my own pet crayfish recently harvested from the drainage ditch.
But yesterday was different. Ardyn and Ashli were playing outside. They kept coming in to ask me questions.
"Do you think this clover smells lovely?"
"Can I borrow the honey dispenser?"
"Do we have an extra spray bottles?"
"May I have one of the lemons from the fridge?"
"Do you think THIS clover smells wonderful?"
At the end of the afternoon, they came inside with muddy shins and sweaty brows. They ran to me with adoration and glee...sloshing a light brown liquid with blades of grass and clover floating along the top.
"Happy Mother's Day! We made you PERFUME!!"
I was poised and ready to receive the gift with gratefulness (for the time and effort) and mercy (for the sloshing and the shins). But they persisted.
"SMELL IT!"
"Put some ON!"
"Do you think it smells beautiful?"
They forcefully offered the cup toward my face. I couldn't fake it. It smelled like dirt. Crawfish infested, weed itchin' dirt. I wanted to let them down gently, but sensory overload would not permit.
"Girls. Thank you so much. You are sweet, but I don't really want to..."
"Mom! Doesn't it smell great? You said you liked lemons! You said the flowers I brought in smelled nice! You love water! You're going to love it! Here! Try it!"
I stared at them from the corner of my eye, with my nose angled away from the "Eau De Toilette" with just a hint of Muck & Mire. In desperation, my honest approach may have been a tad abrupt:
"It smells like dirt! Do you want me to lie?"
Both girls ran away sobbing. I looked at JW and the boys for feedback. They were laughing hysterically. Not helpful.
I gently gathered the girls. I held them close and explained that I LOVED the idea that they thought of me the whole time they were playing. I LOVED the fact they worked so long and hard to bring a gift that would be special. Then I told them that I LOVED them too much to lie or withhold the truth. I told them I didn't mean to hurt their feelings. I asked them if they agreed that we needed the freedom to be honest with each other.
They sniffled a shy agreement.
"It kinda DOES smell like dirt, but what are you going to do with it now...just pour it down the drain??"
No more honesty.
Just hugs.
Long, heart-felt, change-of-subject type hugs.
Father God, thank you for my precious, sweet children. Thank You for the love you've given them for me. Help us all as we live in the tension of honest encouragement. Thank You for being full of Truth and Hope.
I wonder if my offerings of devotion always delight You...or if You ever feel like screaming, "It smells like dirt; Do you want me to lie?" Help me continue to come to You with humble, enthusiastic, childlike faith. Search my heart. Give me a hunger for Your Truth.
