I am a housekeeper – not a homemaker.

If I have time for waxing, polishing, and decorative achievements,

but have not love,

my children learn cleanliness – not godliness.

If I scream at my children for every infraction,

and fault them for every mess they make,

but have not love,

my children become people-pleasers not obedient children.

Love leaves the dust in search of a child’s laugh.

Love smiles at the tiny fingerprints on a newly cleaned window.

Love wipes away the tears before it wipes up the spilled milk.

Love picks up the child before it picks up the toys.

Love accepts the fact that I am the ever-present “mommy,”

the taxi-driver to every childhood event,

the counselor when my children fail or are hurt.

Love crawls with the baby, walks with the toddler, and runs with the child,

then stands aside to let the youth walk into adulthood.

Before I became a mother I took glory in my house of perfection.

Now I glory in God’s perfection of my child.

All the projections I had for my house and my children

have faded away into insignificance,

And what remain are the memories of my kids.

Now there abides in my home scratches on most of the furniture,

dishes with missing place settings,

and bedroom walls full of stickers, posters and markings,

But the greatest of all is the Love

that permeates my relationships with my children.