Easter is coming. The husband is working to plan the Easter celebration for our house church and the oldest is unsure of how he feels about his Lent decision and Ella is counting down until she can don that Easter dress. And so I hurry to get us from the birth of Jesus to the Resurrection, ticking away at the stories in the Jesus Storybook Bible and turning on Matt Maher's Christ is Risen as we clean or cook or doodle.
The lyrics always get me...
Run to him who showed great love and bled for us
Freely you bled for us
There's a word in there that's been poking at me, bothering me a little with an unexpected weight.
Freely. Freely he bled.
As a mom, I think I know something of sacrifice, right?
I wake up. By 6:30. Always.
I eat PBJ's for lunch cause there's screaming when I make soup.
My body shows the wear of carrying those forming lives for each of their nine months.
I watch and read and center my being around things for the littles. The extra hours are often spent thinking of and cleaning up after and planning for and worrying about them.
Them. Always them.
But...do I do it freely?
Is it a generous pouring out? Is it a welcome sacrifice? Do I give of my life or do I feel it pulled away from me and so I relent? Fine, take it. Here, you might as well take it all cause I can't seem to keep it from you.
Freely he gave. Freely.
I want to love freely, serve freely, kneel and scrub and wash and wipe freely.
I want to give more than my time or my energy, but instead give my thoughts and my heart and the best things of me that could pour out into them.
I want to laugh freely, sing freely, exclaim and shout and moan and feel the whole spectrum of my day with an ever present heart to the moment. Freely.
I want to mourn freely, feel their disappointments that may, to my self-preserving heart, feel trite but are significant in their eyes. I want to cry freely for them, with them, over them, in a striving to feel things as they do.
And when it's all over, when they are grown and moving like little forces of nature to bring light to the world, I want them to think back to me, their mom, and say, "Freely she gave."
Here's to an Easter of appreciating the posture of our Savior's death, the example of not just sacrifice but willing, unoconditional sacrifice.
And here's to the first steps of living that way myself. Freely.