I wonder how many times in the past ten years I’ve asked the kids before bed if they’ve pottied. How many teeth have I brushed? How many ponytails have I made? I honestly wonder how many times I have buckled and unbuckled carseats. Or wiped rear ends. Or listened to the never-ending cry, “I’m huuuuuuuuungry!”
The truth is that most of motherhood is repeating the same routine day after day after day. Saying the exact same phrases. Washing the same clothes. Picking up the same toys. Praying the same prayers.
One of the superpowers of motherhood is simply surviving the monotony.
I wonder if God ever feels that way, as a Father? I wonder if He ever gets tired of getting us out of the same messes. Of reminding us of the same truths. I wonder if He sighs when He sees us going right back to the things we don’t want to do.
Still, His mercies are new every morning. Not different. But, new. Fresh. The same love, the same grace, the same endless patience, lavished on us as if He has never seen us squander it (the way we usually do). He just keeps giving, with as much sincerity, as much enthusiasm, as if it were the first time.
And, maybe this is really where mothers show a certain reflection of the Father. Maybe this is really where we can claim that we are bearers of His image. When we get up every morning and start all. over. again. Love turns the monotony into a collection of little mercies, the same old thing, yet a love renewed every single moment of every single day.
And so we keep making the sandwiches and searching for the blankies and checking the homework. It is sincere work. It is mercy. And, it is love.