Pride

Pride is...

Watching your 4-year old Sunbeam sing for the first time in church on Mother's Day. It is watching her BEAM and sing her heart out, so proud of herself being up in front of everyone, with no shame or embarrassment to be singing directly to one person out of hundreds. It is fighting back the tears because crying would be silly, wouldn't it.

Pride is listening to your kids BEG their dad to take them shopping for a present for Mother's Day, then hearing their squeals as they get home, calling you out to see your new beautiful flower pot for the front porch...and listening to them ask again and again if they can water it so the flowers will get bigger and bigger. Pride is hearing "Happy Mother's Day" and "I love you" more times than I can count, and realizing that they are what it's all about.

Have you seen a cuter delivery boy?

On this Mother's Day I am doing a lot of reflecting and hopefully improving. A few weeks ago, Emma came to me and asked: "Mom, do you like kids?" I was a little surprised but of course I said yes. Then she said, "A few days ago when you were on the phone, I heard you tell someone you don't like kids." I could tell she was concerned, and felt this pang of guilt. I knew she had heard right...how often do we express to one of our friends, half joking, that we like our own kids, but not others? OK, probably not as often as I do (guilty!). I want Emma to one day desire to be a mother; I know she desires it a great deal right now, but I really want her to experience the joy that I have and do experience with them as my children. So, I am watching my words very carefully from now on.

Lastly, I got to attend RS today. Gosh I sure appreciate the two times a year I get to go there. Our wonderful teacher read us HER favorite quote from Sister Hinckley and it struck me, probably because of the exact point I am in my life:

“I don’t want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with grass stains on my shoes from mowing Sister Schenk’s lawn. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor’s children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone’s garden. I want to be there with children’s sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.”

And to me, this includes Emma (and Tyler) knowing that I love children and am here for the whole ride. And I love what I do because of two special little stinkers. Happy Mother's Day!

P.S. I got my laminating machine! I guess Spencer can take a not-so-subtle hint! Now my job charts can look super spiffy.