Best Mommy Ever

“You’re the best mommy ever!” My five-year-old exclaims as he gives me a big hug for consenting to his most recent request. His eyes light up, and he excitedly runs off to enjoy an afternoon donut snack; my little boy loves sweets and his happy smile will soon be smeared with chocolate icing. But don’t go getting the wrong impression; I am not actually the best mommy ever. Give me about 15 minutes during which time I will scold that child for fighting with his brother and deny his next request, and this will quickly become the “worst day ever.” His eyes will fill with tears, and his beautiful smile will flip upside down into his signature pout as he cries over not getting his way. 

When it comes to requests, my second born is all about quantity. There’s always something that he wants, and he is going to ask every time it pops in his head. This kid shoots out requests like a pitching machine, lobbing one right after the other, hoping that one of them will connect. So I might be the best mom ever, but only until I tell him no. 

The first few times I got to bask in his praise, it felt good. After all, I love the way his dark eyes sparkle when he’s happy, I’m a sucker for his adorable grin, and I simply enjoy seeing my little boy happy. But I cannot and will not give in to his every whim. If I did, we’d be drowning in toys as seen on TV, and the child would only ever fill his tummy with junk food. So I tell him no, even though ‘no’ never earns me the title of best mommy ever. 

But what makes me a good mom isn’t what I give to my children; it’s who I am. I am their provider, comforter, and protector— even when the protection is from their own bad ideas. I am the one responsible for their health, safety, education, and well-being. I am a good mom because I fill all of these rolls to the best of my ability, whether or not my children like it, whether or not it feels “good” to them. 

Three years ago, as I battled depression and the shattering of all of my expectations, I was confronted with misconceptions I had about God’s goodness. When I found myself relying solely on God to get me through each day, a faulty belief was exposed, one that I didn’t even realize I held. Somehow, I had turned our relationship into one that was transactional. If I did this, then God would owe me that. If I adopted this little girl, then God owed me an extra special connection with her, or financial security, or mental stability– certainly not anxiety and depression. That particular journey was an undoing of my expectations; it provided God the opportunity to rebuild my understanding of who he is. God’s goodness is intrinsic. It is who he is, regardless of whether the things he gives or withholds feel good.

When my son sings my praises because of donuts or presents, I remind him that yes, I am his best mommy ever, and it has nothing to do what I give him, I just am. And when I remind him that I’m good, I remind myself that God is good too, he just is. 

“I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the LORD In the land of the living.” Psalms 27:13

“The LORD is good to all, And His mercies are over all His works.” Psalms 145:9

“Give thanks to the LORD, for He is good; His faithful love endures forever.” 1 Chronicles 16:34