Mommy
A few weeks ago I picked up a book called "Kisses from Katie" on my weekly (sometimes bi-weekly) Barnes & Nobles run. It's an autobiography by a young American girl (the same age as me!) who did the unthinkable and moved to Uganda right out of high school and committed her life to serving the people there by adopting 14 little girls and creating an organization that would go on to feed, clothe, and teach hundreds more. I'd regret reading this book in public because I constantly found my eyes welling up with tears; I can't remember the last time a book (a non-fiction one at that!) stirred in me so much emotion.
One of the many parts that really struck me and stayed with me, though, was how profound her mother's heart was. The way it expanded and embraced the children who for all intents and purposes have been thrown into the darkest, cruelest corners of this world. All at once she was inexplicably, irrevocably committed to loving these children whole again.
As I read her stories and the way she felt for these children, I felt a real ache when I realized that for some reason, a similar heart had been placed inside of me for a long time. But so often the comforts and distractions of my first world life pull my attention away from this instinct to mother to loving myself. One thing that I found interesting and almost paradoxical about Katie was that she mentioned that she felt closer to Jesus in Uganda than back home. There, in the midst of unspeakable sadness and poverty, what most people would consider a depressing place to stay for even a week, she found unsurpassable joy and communion with Jesus because, simply put, nothing else was in the way.
In many ways, I know that God has called me to be a mother. I know this because I've been told many times, and I have girls who call me Mommy who couldn't possibly be my actual biological children. My natural instinct to protect, nurture, and love is something that has always been a part of my personality. It's nothing incredible or impressive, but it's simply something that I grew up doing; other people are bold or adventurous or ambitious. Those traits don't come as easily to me, but taking care of people has always been second nature. But like everything else we've been given by God, placed in my own fallible hands I can corrupt, misuse, or even ignore these gifts and make it all about me.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to be more than a motherly kind of person to the people around me. I want to be captivated by the sacrificial love that our heavenly Father has for us and love others from the outflow of my wonder. I want to cast off the distractions of this life and see past my own desires into people's needs and meet them whenever I can. I may not be called to long-term missions work like Katie Davis but as she says, Jesus doesn't just ask us to care for the poor and the sick and the broken in this world, He commands us to. And that includes the people I encounter everyday.
One of the many parts that really struck me and stayed with me, though, was how profound her mother's heart was. The way it expanded and embraced the children who for all intents and purposes have been thrown into the darkest, cruelest corners of this world. All at once she was inexplicably, irrevocably committed to loving these children whole again.
As I read her stories and the way she felt for these children, I felt a real ache when I realized that for some reason, a similar heart had been placed inside of me for a long time. But so often the comforts and distractions of my first world life pull my attention away from this instinct to mother to loving myself. One thing that I found interesting and almost paradoxical about Katie was that she mentioned that she felt closer to Jesus in Uganda than back home. There, in the midst of unspeakable sadness and poverty, what most people would consider a depressing place to stay for even a week, she found unsurpassable joy and communion with Jesus because, simply put, nothing else was in the way.
In many ways, I know that God has called me to be a mother. I know this because I've been told many times, and I have girls who call me Mommy who couldn't possibly be my actual biological children. My natural instinct to protect, nurture, and love is something that has always been a part of my personality. It's nothing incredible or impressive, but it's simply something that I grew up doing; other people are bold or adventurous or ambitious. Those traits don't come as easily to me, but taking care of people has always been second nature. But like everything else we've been given by God, placed in my own fallible hands I can corrupt, misuse, or even ignore these gifts and make it all about me.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to be more than a motherly kind of person to the people around me. I want to be captivated by the sacrificial love that our heavenly Father has for us and love others from the outflow of my wonder. I want to cast off the distractions of this life and see past my own desires into people's needs and meet them whenever I can. I may not be called to long-term missions work like Katie Davis but as she says, Jesus doesn't just ask us to care for the poor and the sick and the broken in this world, He commands us to. And that includes the people I encounter everyday.
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