Privileged

Eating breakfast in my dining room this morning, I looked around and sighed.  There was a black streak on the wall and dirty little fingerprints all over the windowsill.  On the buffet sat a small bag containing Frito crumbs, an unwrapped sucker, a cup full of punchies from a plan to make confetti.  And the list went on…

My mind moved ahead to my husband’s wish to have company over after church Sunday.  Wouldn’t it be nice to have the buffet totally cleared and a beautiful silk flower arrangement sitting in the absence of all that clutter?  A large, oblong flower arrangement that would sprawl out and take up the majority of the buffet!  I could envision it all—like something out of Country Living.  And then I laughed.  Of course that would never happen anytime soon.  

Immediately my mind went back to an email I received last night.  A friend of a friend was finally expecting their first baby after 6+ years of trying.  They had also been approved for the adoption of two little boys who were brothers.  All of this happening in a few months of each other.  Wow were there lives ever going to change!  But I bet they’re thrilled.

And suddenly I felt reprimanded.  I should be thrilled too…thrilled to have finger prints on my walls and windowsills.  Thrilled to have a stray Apple Jack or two hidden underneath the dining room table.  Thrilled to have to move flip flops from the floor by the potato bin when I swept the kitchen.  Thrilled to have loads and loads of little girl’s laundry to sort, wash and fold.  Even thrilled to have to call in the SWAT team (Standing by Waiting and Anxious Tony) to clean a pink bedroom last night because it was out of control!  Thrilled because I am blessed beyond measure.  

Blessed to have had the privilege to carry, nurture and give birth to three beautiful girls.  Blessed to see them grow from completely dependent infants, to “I-do-it-myself” toddlers and on to independent school girls.  Blessed because there are so many who lack what I have and would give anything in the world, including an immaculate house with to-die-for décor, to be able to share it with a teething baby, a screaming toddler or a weepy adolescent.

Even on the worst of these days, I am blessed.  Because these things only mean that I am also privileged to be able to snuggle with a four year old and read her one more story; to listen to my seven year old with pride as she recites her addition and subtraction facts before three minutes are up; to watch my 10 year old take responsibility and set goals to achieve A Honor Roll at the end of the quarter.  Privileged to watch my once shy little girl get up in front of a church full of people and sing her first solo; to see my middle daughter reach out and form friendships independent of her sister’s opinion; to listen to my oldest enumerate facts unknown to me on whatever particular subject she is absorbed in that week.

I am privileged to be a mom!  I hope I never take this role for granted.