I don’t claim to know much about motherhood.
I’ve seen birth, I’ve babysat some pretty stellar kids and I’ve had shared the disappointment that comes with disciplining them. That’s it though. Mere snapshots in the life of my friends’ children.
Tonight, however, I know grief. Grief over a child who blatantly tells you one thing when you know it to be another. Only moments have passed since the incident but I am still in disbelief. I can’t believe she lied to me.
My eleven-year-old little sister blatantly told me something upon a questioning that didn’t quite fit the evidence before her. I let her go, but as I mulled it over I called her in again. Tears welled up in her eyes as she finally confessed that she had lied to me because she didn’t want to get in trouble. Tears welled up in my eyes as this new broken heart appeared before me.
My dear, sweet, sweet little sister. When have you ever seriously gotten in trouble in this house? With me?
I sent her to read on her bed while I prayed for wisdom. How do I handle this? What will reach her heart?
Dear mothers, I still don’t claim to know much about motherhood but I have caught a new glimpse into it. How you can daily look at your children — in full knowledge that your every action and all your words count for something — and not collapse under the weight of the task that is mothering is beyond me. You continue to astound me.
This is the closest I’ve ever felt to being a mother. Grief. Today I’ve learned there is no joy, no satisfaction, no appeasement in catching your child in a lie.