A is for Apple; H is for Humbling

I drew two dots on the chalkboard. “Now watch,” I told Zuzu. “I’m going to draw a line connecting those two dots.” I drew the line, and then I drew two more dots. “Now you draw a line connecting those two dots.” She picked up her thick piece of chalk and drew a line just as I had instructed her. The line curved and wiggled a little, but it followed a single path from dot to dot. I congratulated her. We continued this until Zuzu had successfully completed the letter A. I was thrilled, and she was thrilled that I was thrilled. So we decided to do it again. I took the dry paintbrush that serves as our eraser, and brushed the board clean.
    This time, Zuzu’s first line was impressively straight, about as straight as my own chalk lines usually are. After she’d drawn it, she picked up the paintbrush and wiped it out. Then she looked at me and smiled. I cried, “No! Don’t erase it before we’ve finished! Now you’ve got to draw that line over!” This made her hang her head, and her bottom lip came out in a pout. She obediently picked up her chalk and drew the line again, but as she did so, tears welled up in her eyes and flooded onto her cheeks.
    I melted. I scooped her up and told her I was sorry and that she hadn’t done anything wrong. Of course she hadn’t done anything wrong—she doesn’t really understand what letters are yet, so the concept of drawing an A is a bit beyond her. As far as she knew we were just drawing lines and erasing them. She thought I’d be pleased with her erasing like I was with her drawing. Such a small incident, but I know how small things can feel big to tender hearts.
    Being a mother takes energy. It takes energy to chase kids around all day, and to discipline kids, and to play with kids; but the thing that makes me the most tired is the humbling. Coming down off my high horse over and over. Asking a two-year-old for forgiveness. Trying to let each lesson sink in, feeling my heart being molded and shaped and softened. I’m not talking about Mommy Guilt. I’m not—the kind that comes with stress and self-doubt, that shrinks the soul. I’m talking about the simple practice of recognizing and admitting my fault, a practice that makes me kinder, more patient, less self-centered; that enlarges the soul. Afterwards I’m worn out and a bit sore, as though I’d been exercising. Maybe it’s kind of like exercising, where being fit is being humble.
    It is possible, given the frequency of humbling moments in my life, that I may someday be in shape!

“Put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience” Colossians 3:12b