I consider motherhood to be a calling, a divine purpose ordained by God. The dichotomy in the previous statement lies in the fact that I am one of the most selfish people on the planet. Last night I pitched a royal fit when Rob informed me that he had scheduled a dinner appointment and likely wouldn't be home until 8:30. The kids were fighting, Josh seemed to be in a mood, and I was just downright grumpy. Emma wanted to go to her school's ice cream social and I decided it might be a nice diversion. We waited in line for twenty minutes for popcorn (in the world's hottest gymnasium), the kids had two bites of ice cream and we headed home after about 45 minutes or so.
Fast forward to this morning. I played a game of sorry with Emma, before intending to clean my house and do laundry. I was short-tempered with her, because she still can't grasp the concept of moving the pieces correctly. I've patiently (kind of) worked with her many times, and she still is a little confused. While I was eating my breakfast, I perused the "week in pictures" on msn. If you haven't discovered this feature on msn, I highly recommend it. This morning I was dropped to my knees.
Sometimes I get such a clear glimpse of what a wretch I really am. In the archive for this week there was a stark picture of the world that many children live in. There were children playing in Tivoli gardens in Kingston, Jamaica. A little boy walking past a burning oil tanker [ambushed by the Taliban] in Kabul. A mother mourning her 19-yr old son who was killed while serving our country.
The most compelling picture I couldn't move past was an eight-year old little boy who lives in Pakistan. Gilli lives in a house with two other mentally disabled children, hundreds of drug addicts, and a few abandoned elderly adults. In the picture he is tied to a window with a rope and begging for food from some of the other inhabitants. As I sit in my air-conditioned living room eating Chobani with fresh strawberries, my eight-year old's terra nova test results sit on the adjoining leather chair. Across the world is another eight-year old, tied to a window and begging for food. And I was complaining about having to take care of my own children last night. Lord, thank you for the perspective.