A woman agonizes over her mistakes in motherhood.

Am I the same as my mother? Have I become what I despised in her? I worked so hard to cover all the bases of motherhood. Above all, faith. Faith in what? God, Jesus, myself, my husband, my children? Whom? Since childhood I truly believed I would become a missionary. Then I thought I had to sail far away to lands like Myanmar or Bangladesh. My mission setting was David’s family. A place I helped to create. Yet, what good did I do beyond its creation? Showed the children how to dress, how to brush their teeth, how to use the toilet? Is that all I did? My heart weeps for what my spirit sees left undone—or worse, what I chose not to do, or overlooked, or was too involved in other places, or couldn’t see beyond my own nose. Every moment is precious in a child’s life. Every moment. A parent must be there to listen, always to listen, and to discover what the child speaks from his/her heart. Every moment. And I was not.