If I could tell today’s modern woman any one thing it would be this: if at all possible, be a mom. Please do not forego this sacred calling for careers or selfish gain.
Since my children were young, I taught them to seek the LORD first and foremost. Then I told them to be mindful of their future schooling and careers, to look at their choices through the scope of wanting to be parents (because they want to be), knowing that I did my part in raising them, I will not raise my grandchildren. Love them, support them, give respites, yes, but raise them, no. That is their responsibility … and their privilege.
Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord,
The fruit of the womb is a reward. Psalm 127:3 NKJ
I wanted to re-share a poem I submitted in a post several years ago. I wrote this in 2013 and it’s been circling in my mind. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope, where it’s applicable, you will have a
If you are not a mom but have one, birth or otherwise, join me and take some time to thank her. If she wasn’t a stellar role model, than at least she showed you what not to be.
Growing Up
Precious little bundle,
listen to her coo.
First a grunt, then a squint,
now a diaper full of poo. YUCK!
Diapers, bottles,
oh no, the binky’s lost!
Never enough day,
never enough sleep,
I never understood the cost.
Earaches, bellyaches, throwin’ up dinner.
How can I run and run yet I’m never any thinner?
Dirty dishes in the sink,
on the counter, in the tub?!
Dirty clothes and debris everywhere,
now that’s the rub!
Growin’ up on Sonshine,
rooted in the Word.
She’s testing her wings,
he’ll fly like a bird.
Beautiful woman-like creature,
handsome strapping young man.
Couldn’t play that game now,
Catch me if you can . . . if you can.
Now my days are all my own.
No more, “I’m hungry! What’s to eat?”
I finally have my silent nights
with no more bed chat meets.
I had the world and didn’t know it,
precious toddler, growin’ tween.
I had the world and didn’t know it,
time gone’s the fastest thing I’ve seen.
Oh for a sink full of dirty dishes,
clothes to wash piled high like a car.
It’s funny now what my heart wishes.
Funny how a child leaves such a deep mark.
~ Written by Christi Marie
God's Word Girl 