Fruitfulness in Duty

Henri Matisse, Dishes and Fruit. 1901. Oil on canvas. The Hermitage, St. Petersburg, Russia

So recently my teaching leader at Bible Study Fellowship posed this question with a knowing smile on her face, "Who here feels like a servant to their children?"  The room filled with soft laughter as every young mother present raised her hand.  And then the challenge, "You're right.  You have no choice do you?  But you do have a choice about your attitude."  The passage was John 13, Jesus washing the disciples' feet.  And I was convicted.  Because when not experiencing the wonder of all the "firsts" in my beautiful babies' lives or the awe at all they say and do I can get a little overwhelmed if not put out when simultaneously I am changing a diaper and pacifying the toddler who is now shouting for the juice that she asked me for 10 minutes ago.  Or feeding the overtired baby his nighttime bottle while worrying if older sister in the other room is choking on a bone in the pork chop I just fed her.  Not to mention how tactilely defensive I can be at the end of the day because Vincent has learned to stand up and pull on my pant leg while I hold a squirming Sophia, attempting to read them both a book.  But Jesus washed smelly feet in an act of humble service to those He loved.  Why have I forgotten that wiping a dirty bottom can be an act of service too?  Service not only to my children but also to my Heavenly Father who graciously put them under my care?  How I forget that there's a privilege and purpose in the mundane.  A purpose in wiping little, dirty faces, cleaning up the same dropped toys for the 30th time, fixing bottles, wiping bottoms, and waitressing food and drink to an opinionated set of Morlandts?  Yes, in doing these things I am giving my children a sense of security and trust.  Hopefully a small example of love in action, of devotion.  As George Eliot states, "Little children are still the symbol of the eternal marriage between love and duty."  Lord, just help me to love in my duty.  When I'm tired.  When Tony is on call. When I'm just plain grumpy. 

Lord, through the indwelling of your Holy Spirit may I exhibit these fruits of the Spirit while caring for my children, "love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control" (Galatians 5:22).  And in doing so, give them a small glimpse into Your immeasurable love.  In Jesus' name I pray, Amen.

And to close this rather vulnerable post I would like to share this prayer from Angela Thole in Bloomington, Minnesota:

Lord,

When they scribble on the walls, please help me to see a rainbow!

And when I've said something a hundred times, please give me the patience to say it a hundred times more!

And on those particularly annoying days when I tell them to act their age, please help me to remember that they are!

And while we're on the subject of age, Lord, when I begin to lose my temper, please help me to remember to act mine!

And through it all Lord - the fingerprints and runny noses, messy rooms and unrolled toilet paper, destroyed videotapes and broken knickknacks - please help me to remember this:  someday, these will be the days I will long to have back again!