being enabled.
These days I am so tired. So very tired.
You see a pleasant stroll and bike ride.
I'm remembering what it was like to carry their bikes and helmets on the long walk back to the car, all the while listening to their pitiful whines. So tired.
Compassion and patience all but leave me when my stomach becomes this huge.
They are small, yes. And they haven't learned exactly what it means to persevere. Especially with a cheerful attitude. But I haven't exactly mastered that one either.
Gosh, they're beautiful children.
Last night I was pondering the word "enable" and I had some interesting thoughts. I usually think of being an enabler as flat-out negative; and in the context under which the term is most often used, I will admit my mind has not changed. Enable, though, really means to make-capable. Doesn't that sum up parenting?
But what do we wish to encourage in their capacities as human beings?
As impatient as I was to get back to the car, I eventually realized that I had to let them walk their own bikes back.
So much whining. So tired. But a different type of tired than when I carried their bikes. We talked about perseverance and enduring to the end. When we reached the car and opened our awaiting cracker-snacks, we talked about the sweet rewards of hard work. And they learned something from all of it.
So tired. But at least feeling like a good mother. Instead of enabling I was making-them-able, you see?
I've decided to hustle the kids after the baby is born. Let me explain...
I'm not going to let on to the fact that I can touch my toes, or move quickly. Then, sometime when one of them decides to run away from me and laugh, I will break out in a marvelous sprint and terrify them.
That will be funny.
I'm thinking about all the moments of my marriage that Duke and I stay awake in the dark to discuss our fears and frustrations. One lifts the other's heart. Usually he lifts mine.
I told him that this pregnancy is hard because no one expects it to be hard anymore. We are all tired of me being pregnant all of the time. No more novelty. I have been pregnant for approximately 57% or our entire marriage (and nursing for most of the rest). My body is a baby-machine; pumping them out and keeping them fed. Have I mentioned how tired I am?
So, Duke had forgotten compassion. And so had I since, like I mentioned before, compassion and patience have been expelled to make room for my growing uterus. A successful marriage must be founded on at least some compassion, so we were so glad to recommit to caring for one-another.
Right this moment, Duke is helping the boys clean the house before taking them on a bike ride. I love him. I love him.
The rewards of perseverance have been oh, so sweet. We could never wish the climb away considering the view from up here.
I know we will look down at this little baby with triumphant joy, having obtained such great height through uncomfortable toil.
I feel as if a loving Father has enabled us, in the most positive sense, to grasp for ourselves His choicest blessings.
We can do this.
You see a pleasant stroll and bike ride.
I'm remembering what it was like to carry their bikes and helmets on the long walk back to the car, all the while listening to their pitiful whines. So tired.
Compassion and patience all but leave me when my stomach becomes this huge.
They are small, yes. And they haven't learned exactly what it means to persevere. Especially with a cheerful attitude. But I haven't exactly mastered that one either.
Gosh, they're beautiful children.
Last night I was pondering the word "enable" and I had some interesting thoughts. I usually think of being an enabler as flat-out negative; and in the context under which the term is most often used, I will admit my mind has not changed. Enable, though, really means to make-capable. Doesn't that sum up parenting?
But what do we wish to encourage in their capacities as human beings?
As impatient as I was to get back to the car, I eventually realized that I had to let them walk their own bikes back.
So much whining. So tired. But a different type of tired than when I carried their bikes. We talked about perseverance and enduring to the end. When we reached the car and opened our awaiting cracker-snacks, we talked about the sweet rewards of hard work. And they learned something from all of it.
So tired. But at least feeling like a good mother. Instead of enabling I was making-them-able, you see?
I've decided to hustle the kids after the baby is born. Let me explain...
I'm not going to let on to the fact that I can touch my toes, or move quickly. Then, sometime when one of them decides to run away from me and laugh, I will break out in a marvelous sprint and terrify them.
That will be funny.
I'm thinking about all the moments of my marriage that Duke and I stay awake in the dark to discuss our fears and frustrations. One lifts the other's heart. Usually he lifts mine.
I told him that this pregnancy is hard because no one expects it to be hard anymore. We are all tired of me being pregnant all of the time. No more novelty. I have been pregnant for approximately 57% or our entire marriage (and nursing for most of the rest). My body is a baby-machine; pumping them out and keeping them fed. Have I mentioned how tired I am?
So, Duke had forgotten compassion. And so had I since, like I mentioned before, compassion and patience have been expelled to make room for my growing uterus. A successful marriage must be founded on at least some compassion, so we were so glad to recommit to caring for one-another.
Right this moment, Duke is helping the boys clean the house before taking them on a bike ride. I love him. I love him.
The rewards of perseverance have been oh, so sweet. We could never wish the climb away considering the view from up here.
I know we will look down at this little baby with triumphant joy, having obtained such great height through uncomfortable toil.
I feel as if a loving Father has enabled us, in the most positive sense, to grasp for ourselves His choicest blessings.
We can do this.
Comments