Originally written: October 30, 2015
Today Cameron and I went on a date—a “mission,” as he likes to call it. I'm trying to be more intentional about spending time with Cameron and Peyton separately, since they are twins and have done and continue to do so much together. We started at Peace Love and Little Donuts! He chose M&M and Rolo. We sat in the car to eat, and he climbed up in the front seat—such a big deal for the little guy. We talked about God, about being thankful and even about the Holy Spirit (talk about a challenge to explain to a four year old).
Next we went into the toy store to look around. I followed him from one aisle to the next—watched his little eyes dance with joy. “I’m ready for Arby’s now, Mom,” he told me. I had promised that’s where we would end up. When we got there, I orderedhim a chocolate milkshake (Happy Hour from 2-5pm—small milk shake for $1!!!). I sat there and watched him suck it down (of course, back in the front seat as we sat in the parking lot in front of Marc’s).
And then it dawned on me: our children often call it like it is. This really is my mission. Moms—this is our mission field--our sweet children—sitting in their car seats, begging us for our attention. So often we look with jealousy or with thankfulness or with such distance at the “real” missionaries in our churches. They live behind the window pane, across an ocean, in a different world. But right before us the Lord has placed each of us our own mission field, our own battlefield. Are we going to bat for our children each day? Are we telling them Truth each morning? “For this is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.”