I was visiting a friend's blog and read a rather lengthy comment.  I liked it so much, I decided I should revise it and turn it into a blog post of my own.  I can do that, because I'm the one who wrote the comment in the first place.  The subject of my friend's post?  In a nutshell, Moms who feel like they've failed their kids.  And boy, could I relate...

A few months ago I ran into a former acquaintance, and we began talking, as moms do, about our kids.  Her youngest is the age of my oldest, nearly 20.  I commented that I had had such a hard time letting go of my oldest when he graduated high school, because I was now out of time to "undo" all the mistakes I had made with him.  She remarked of her young adult children that she had "no regrets" about the way she had raised them.  I was immediately jealous and thought how wonderful it must be to have no regrets at the end of one's parenting years.  I have so many regrets already, not just with the one who's out of the nest, but with the ones who are still in it.  Obviously, this regret-less mom had done a much better job with her kids than I.

I was thinking about this recently, and a new thought occurred to me.  I suddenly saw the conversation, and myself, in a different light, and it is this:   Perhaps... perhaps this woman is NOT actually a better mother than I am.  Perhaps she is only less of an idealist.

There are people in this world, many of them I think, who are able to accept themselves the way God does, flaws and all.  And there are others of us for whom nothing is ever quite good enough.  Nothing measures up, least of all ourselves.  We see things as they ought to be and cannot quite bring ourselves to accept things as they are.  We set our standards for a perfect world and then condemn ourselves for failing to live up to them.  And for those of us whose identities are wrapped up in being mothers, it is our parenting skills that we most call into question; it is out mothering that receives the full force of our self-condemnation. We have failed to parent our children perfectly; therefore, we are Failures as mothers.

Last year when I was at a women's retreat and thinking of these things, the Lord spoke to my heart quite clearly.  He told me two things:  First, that it's OK to fail, as long as I pick myself back up every time and keep running the race.  And second, that even if I were the only mother who had ever failed her kids, He would still love me.

There is a third thing he tells me as well, but it has taken me a while to be able to receive it.  And that is, that I really haven't failed my kids.  Oh yes, I've failed as a mom, many times in many ways.  I've failed many times to do the best that I can do and to be the best that I can be.  But I haven't "failed my children".  I have loved them.  They have everything they really need, and then some.  Lots, in fact.  Most of all, thanks to their highly imperfect parents, they have been introduced to the One Perfect Parent.   What more important gift could I give them?

There are indeed many things I have failed to give my children.  But I have given them the only things that really matter:  My imperfect love, and a perfect Jesus.  Everything else is bonus.  I need to stop looking at my mothering through an idealist's eyes, and start looking at it through God's eyes.

Oh, my fellow moms who think we have failed.  If only we could see ourselves as our Heavenly Father does.  He looks at us and sees Jesus.  And I really think, if I will let myself believe it, that He looks at us and sees not failing mothers, but good mothers.  Good mothers.  Flawed mothers, but good mothers nonetheless.  And if He thinks of us that way, then really, who are we to think any differently?  If only we could see it.  Lord, help us to see as You see.

-From one good mother to many others.  Believe it!