My precious friend Nikki has this thing printed out and taped to one of her kitchen cabinet doors. Every time I am at her house (which, I might add, is not often enough) it catches my eye and encourages my heart. Some days I desperately need to remember it’s words. Today was one of “those” days. You know what I’m talking about. The kind of day where you’re tempted to send all children to separate parts of the house from noon on… just so you can hang on to that last little shred of sanity. The kind of day that you spend an inordinate amount of time on your hands and knees mopping up spilled milk, cleaning up poop, scraping soggy-turned-crusty Cheerios off the floor, and searching for teeny little beads from a bracelet that was broken in the heat of a Cloe vs. Gabi match.
Right now, I am trying to enjoy the relative quiet of my house as all three girls are (for the moment) sleeping. I only say “relative” because somewhere within a few miles of here, someone is having a party. We like to call the noise from these events “oompa-loompa music.” I had great plans for the evening… pop some popcorn, have some hot tea, and maybe watch a chick-flick. But here we are at 9:30, and now all I want is to be asleep. So we’re goin with that plan now. But as I scanned over this poem a few minutes ago, I decided that I wanted to share it before crashing on my beloved pillow. Surely I’m not the only young mom out there that had one of “those” days. If you happen to have had an amazing “wow I am totally super-mom!!!” kind of day, then just file this away for the next time you find yourself on the other end of the scale. Then, I pray that it will encourage your heart as it does mine!
A Missionary’s Vision
After marriage God called me to the mission field –
A little bundle needing all my care,
A disciple in touch with my life, obedient to all he hears.
Then came some more all in a row.
Everywhere I went, six little arrows in tow.
God had to call me again to His mission field.
I answered, “To China, to Africa, to Israel, oh where?”
His voice was clear, soft and gentle. My ministry arranged –
“My child, you are to polish our arrows,
Preparing them for My call to spread my
Words of life for other nations to see.”
“Lord,” I cried, “Loneliness surrounds my soul,
No other woman stands with me answering your call.
The sacrifice is great.”
Women give way to another’s voice, pulling them away
from their home, far from the quiver.”
Once more I pleaded, “May I go too, Lord, I feel the call
To share with the lost, Life giving words,
To feed the hungry a satisfying meal.”
“My child,” Jesus replied, “You share with your
children salvation and truth.
Feed them meals under your roof.
Discipline them, train them and then lie down in peace,
For sacrificial love have you given to make the world right.
Arise in the morning, open My book,
Teach them into My eyes they must look.”
“Yes, Lord, I replied, “But should I serve you in a more obvious way?”
“Child, my sweet child,” God spoke once more.
I anointed you to do this work – the high calling of Motherhood.
To show our children the need for my love.”
“Lord,”, I sought out, still not fully convinced,
“Should I sew for those in thread barren clothes, a Dorcas, a Martha?”
“Sit at my feet, my child, listen to me.
Your daughter needs dresses, your sons warm shirts,
The button of your husband’s coat still lies on the table.
Pick up your mantle, the rod of Aaron.
Lead my women back to their home.”
“Yes, Lord.” Filled and content, I took my position in God’s mission field.
Hungry faces graced my bedside.
Clothed in God’s mantle, children at my side,
I prepared breakfast.
—-Paula Muller of Brodnax, Va