Late on Christmas Eve, while climbing into bed, you thought of your children. Not the ones you'd give birth to or raise as your own. The ones you've had an influence on so far.
Especially your Wobblers and Preschoolers. You thought of each of them and memories you had. Memories of joy. Happiness. Fun. Sadness. Worry. Disappointment. Frustration. Love. Annoyance. Friendship. Conversations. Whispered questions. Rocking them to sleep. Fears. Inspiration. Hugs. Goodbyes.
You thought about each of them as if they were your own. You asked yourself, "What would I do? What kind of mother would I be? Would Heavenly Father really bless me like that? Would He trust me with such a precious possession, a child, of His?"
You thought, "How could He trust me? Why would He? I've failed Him so in the past. I've not made the best decisions. I knew better. He knows me. He knows what I've done. None of the things I've done, or not done, are terrible. But why would He trust me? How could He?"
Then you thought of Mary. She'd done so much right. But surely she was imperfect as well. Not as you are. But she was. He trusted her with a most precious Son. And He was not upset with her, with her overall nurture and care for Christ.
How dare I think down of myself. The Lord knows me and will not give me more than I can handle without His help. He expects me to fail at times. And I know He will be close by to help me if I only ask.
I may find out later that I will not have children in this life, but I will know it is His plan. And He will guide me so I can fulfill my mission here on earth.
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