A Pouring Out

As we walked down the street together, one of my adult sons blurted out, "Mom, you don't have a life."

Puzzled I asked, "Why do you say that?"

"All you do is spend each day taking care of  everyone else.  You cook their food, wash their clothes, clean the house, and do nothing for yourself."

I gently replied, "But that is my life.  It is the life I have chosen.  It is the life God has called me to."

He was puzzled.  He didn't understand.  "How can you spend all your time pouring yourself into other people?  You have nothing left at the end of the day."

I've been mulling this conversation over in my mind since then.  I don't always gracefully live this life.  Is there something he sees in me that makes him think it's not worth the sacrifice...the pouring out?

When my babies were little, I didn't mind sacrificing for them. It was natural to me, I loved ministering to my little ones. I enjoyed a hot meal, but if my baby needed fed, I'd gladly sit down to nurse them, cuddling their warm soft bodies close even as my food grew cold. In the still of the night when my babies were restless or fussy, I loved rocking them or snuggling them up close in my bed as the darkness enveloped us. Inhaling their sweet baby scent we floated off to a world where it was just us treasuring the moment.

The selfless attitude that came naturally when they were babies, I found a struggle as they grew up. Perhaps it was because they were more capable of doing things for themselves. Perhaps it was the many demands of a large family. Perhaps it was being asked to love when it was not the natural thing to do. Whatever the reason for the change, God brought me face to face with my selfishness.

Selfishness is an ugly thing. It rears it's head when I fix supper and a child needs something. I grumpily stop what “I'm” doing to help.

It's almost bedtime. The day has been long. The kids are playing noisily, and I get irritated. “I” want silence.

The young ones have had a blast playing outside. They are filthy. I'm frustrated because it means extra laundry for “me” to do.

My husband comes in and needs to talk about something. “I” am trying to finish a task. I'm short and impatient with him because “I” have things to get done.

At last supper is over and cleaned up, the young ones read to and tucked in bed, and I can sit down in my chair to relax.  Then a teen reaches over and grabs my hand.  "Hey, mom..."  And inside I try not to pull away.  "I" want to relax and not engage with people.

The demands of a large household are many. I do sometimes wonder when I will have time for “myself” again.  I do have other dreams, goals, and ambitions that I would like to accomplish someday. 

I wonder if my son's comments could stem from my daily struggle with selfishness.  Is it more apparent on the outside then I have realized?  Have I had a spirit of grumbling instead of a spirit of joy?  Words from the Apostle Paul come to mind.

"Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, "children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation."  Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky as you hold firmly to the word of life.  And then I will be able to boast on the day of Christ that I did not run or labor in vain.  But even if I am being poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service coming from your faith, I am glad and rejoice with all of you.  So you too should be glad and rejoice with me."  Philippians 2:14-18

Christ poured out his life that all men might have the opportunity for life everlasting with Him.  Paul poured out his life to share that life with others. As a Christian I am to give my life to Jesus to be used by him. I live this life with purpose.  It is not in vain.  It is so the Light of God can be seen in this dark world.

This struggle with selfishness is a human condition.  It often has led to a spirit of complaining within me.  As I ponder all this, I lift my heart up before my Heavenly Father seeking his forgiveness and asking his Holy Spirit to fill me with his joy.  May it be a joy that overflows even when it is difficult.  May my son see the light of Jesus shining.  May he see I do have a life, and not just a tired body that has little left at the end of the day.  I have a life filled with Jesus who makes it worth living.