Mother Mary, Mother Martha

I love being a Mom.

I also love my Bible.

And I really, really love when God points out to me just how much the two go together.

Our Summer Days are full of friends coming over and swimming and lots of outside time.

Which makes for wonderfully tired kids at the end of the day but also for an extremely messy house each day.

(still not sure how the house gets so crazy dirty when we are outside all day!)

So I've designated Wednesdays as Cleaning Day.

Nobody over.  No lounging by the pool until the house is clean.

I woke up this past Wednesday knowing that I had a mountain of laundry and some floors that needed serious attention.

I was ready to bust it out.

Then Josie asked if we could go swim.

Just the two of us.

And I felt my heart tug.

And I remembered a story about two women.

One who chose busy work and one who chose quality time with her Savior.

See, I'm a Martha Mom.

I have a hard time just being with my kids.

Sure, I love being around them, but for every second I'm playing with them I'm running through a list of To Do's in my head.

Cleaning, organizing, redoing, and shopping.

Always things that need to get done.

I think to myself, "after I get this done, there will be plenty of time to play."

But after that thing, there seems to always be another thing.

And then there's naps to be had and dinner to be cooked.

Then dinner leads to more cleaning and baths and bed.

Then I lay down and wonder where the day went, promise myself to play tomorrow, then wake up to another To Do List.

Yes, I'm surely a Martha Mom.

But I don't want to be.

How many times have I found myself complaining to God that other Moms get more time with their kids?  Whining that I ran out of time?

I remember what Jesus says to Martha when she complains that her sister isn't helping with all the preparations, her never ending To Do List.

He simply says, "Mary has chosen the right thing and it shall not be taken from her."

As I looked down as Josie's excited hazel eyes, I knew I had a choice to make.

And it was bigger then the moment we were standing in.

You see, babies grow.

They turn into 4 year olds who don't need you every second.

Then they go (without permission) and transform into teenagers, adults, mothers with their own kids.

Even though the days seem to pass so slow, the years fly away in the blink of an eye.

Will Josie and Gabe remember me as a woman who never had time for them?  Who had sparkling floors but no memories?

The Martha in me wanted to tell Josie that we'd swim later.

But the Mary I want to be said, "surely we have an hour to spare for some swimming."

And as we put on our swimsuits I could feel God telling me I'd chosen the right thing.

And that cannot be taken from me.