Me, through child-colored glasses

I am a runner. I love to run. Now, I have taken a bit of a break from it (and by "bit", I mean about 4 years.) I stopped when I was 7 months pregnant with Caroline, and because of inconsistent schedules, another pregnancy with Jack, and an unwillingness to wake up at 5am, I've come to realize that now is just not the season in life for my running. But it is definitely a part of my identity. I started it when I was about 10 and just love love love it. I love running with no music, no people around me; I love to think, hear my own breathing, hear my own footsteps, and just tune out. I am a runner.

Two days ago, I overheard a conversation Aly was having with a friend whose mother runs. Aly said, "My mom doesn't ever run. She doesn't like running." I was struck by the fact that my daughter, who is with me the majority of everyday of her life, could be so mistaken about who I am! Doesn't she remember that I ran with her until the day she was born? That I ran with her for the first year and a half of her life? Of course not. She knows what she remembers experiencing, and my running is not a part of it. So it made me wonder how my kids do see me? And not just the interests that make up my identity... what about the actions that make up my character? I know that they see girls coming over to our house for Bible studies, but do they ever see me sit down during the day and actually open up my Bible? I know that they hear me tell people that I will pray for them, but how often do they see me stop what I'm doing and actually pray? I am confident that if they were to make a short list of who their mom is, the daily jobs of cook, house-cleaner, clothes-washer, diaper-changer would all be named. But what a great reminder that these kids are watching and making judgements on what they experience. I hope that I can remember to drop that broom from time to time so that they can see what is really important.