Noticed

A forgotten post, drafted last fall...but a pertinent personal reminder, always.

The family excursion to Lowe's had not gone well. I had needed a Saturday outing...to be out of the house for a time...to feel productive. 

And, the errand did--not--go--well. Despite our best parenting efforts...the children won. 

I came home tired and grumpy...silent, but visibly frustrated by our discouraging and very non-productive experience out of the house with two small children. I walked from room to room, picking up this & that and tidying here & there. I saw messes that I had no idea when I'd be able to address. My annoyance with the clutter and with the day grew.

I bent down to pick up a few stray alphabet refrigerator magnets, that I knew had been lying on the kitchen floor for days. 

I'd better get these, I thought. No one else will. 

Does anyone else even see the mess? What's the point? Why do I bother? 

My attitude was poor; my spirit was weary.

"Thank you, Mommy."

What did she just say? Surely she can't have noticed. There's no way she's thanking me for this.

"Thank you for what, Emerson?"

"Thank you, for picking up my magnets off the floor.... You're having a rough day, huh?"

She noticed. My efforts, my mood.... Oh, wow. ... Wow.

And then, the tears began. She had seen, and genuinely affirmed me in the most precious way.

By her comment, through the innocent eyes of a child, the Lord was speaking.

I see you. I notice. And your work matters. 

I heard Him. 

I realized that it most certainly did matter. That my work is noticed and appreciated and valued, even when it doesn't feel that way. And that, as much as I value serving my family, I am ultimately working for the Lord.

23 Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters,   24 since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. 
It is the Lord Christ you are serving.

Colossians 3: 23-24

My attitude changed. I stopped tidying. I tearfully went to her & hugged her & held her. Tightly. 

"I love you, Emerson."

"I love you more, Mommy."

"Not possible, Little One.... Not possible."