In Greek mythology, a king named Sisyphus was condemned to an afterlife in the underworld rolling a rock up a steep hill, only to have it roll back down before he reached the top. Every day, he had to push that same boulder up that same hill over and over again.
Motherhood can feel like that— playing the same game over and over because it makes Sonya happy, doing the laundry, picking up toys, preparing meals and snacks, then doing the dishes, cleaning the house, only to have all the hard work quickly undone, and having to do the same thing day after long, tiring day.
And I never seem to get enough sleep.
But sometimes, even late at night, when all our attempts of getting Sonya to bed at the usual time of nine o’clock don’t work— there are moments. That make it. All worth it.
These small moments renew me and remind me why I’m doing all of this— and I realize that I’m going to keep pushing that boulder up the hill over and over and over again.
And although on the bad days, I feel punished like Sisyphus, I know that it’s actually God building my character, testing my strength, teaching me to be more patient, more kind, more humble.