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Kimberly Lynch ponders how her identity has changed since becoming a mom, and the gifts that make her God’s beloved daughter.

“Hey, Mom, did you know that Louis XIV had a humongous castle? It was so big that when they finally brought his dinner from the kitchen, it took so long that the food was cold? It was in this place called Ver-sell-ees.”

“Oh, you mean Versailles?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” 

I chuckled and cringed a little bit at her mispronunciation, but also delighted in her interest. “Did you know that I’ve been to the palace?”

“You have? That’s cool!” And off she skipped with the distractibility of a typical kid.

I sighed, as I watched her go, a little perplexed that she knew so little of my life before I had kids. I was a French major in college, and I had spent my junior year in France. But how would she have known ... appreciated ... all of that former life? It was only recently that she had read about Louis XIV and his home in Ver-sell-ees. 

That same day, I caught the toddler pulling out books from the bottom shelf of our bookshelf, and after I shooed him away and collected the spilled books on the floor, I paused at one old album. It lay open to some of the pages of my days in France, with a much younger me standing in a vineyard outside the city of Bordeaux. I looked at the pictures, the faces of classmates whose names I have since forgotten. A thinner and fresher face looked back at me, with a notable innocence and naivetë in her eyes. Compared to my daily routine now, this seemed to be a lifetime ago. 


What do others say of me? This line of questioning is a game of people-pleasing, and it never ends well. Who does God say that I am? #catholicmom

The next morning I sipped my coffee in quiet reflection as I gazed at the Crucifix on the wall in front of me. Daniel Tiger played quietly in the other room, which gave me some space to privately reflect on the nostalgia of yesteryear.

I thought of the well-known Gospel passage where Our Lord asks Peter to identify who the people say that He is. Peter answers correctly, of course, but I contemplate a role reversal.

What do others say of me? I pause, realizing that this line of questioning is a game of people-pleasing, and it never ends well.

20210315 KLynch

So I ask a little differently: 

“Lord, who do you say I am?”

I chuckle to myself as I give my own answers, a title to each of my many duties throughout the day: 

I’m the master of the laundry.
The grand meal planner.
The home educator.
The all-wise mediator of sibling brawls.
The business woman with the side hustle.
The comforter and soother.
The bus driver.
The gatekeeper of the family calendar.
The home engineer.
The keeper of all the details.
And ... the very tired one. 

I suppose, at the end of the day, I don’t really know who I am anymore. 

Lord, who do you say that I am? 

You are my daughter.
I delight in your heart.
You are worth so much more than what you do or accomplish.
You are the little girl who loved to dance. The woman who feels the same passion when she sits down to write.
The woman who faces her insecurities on a daily basis, like David facing the giant Goliath who hurled insults against Israel’s God.
The mom who inspires her kids, even though she often doesn’t realize it.
The wife who has always been the rock for her husband.
An incredibly creative mind, who often feels stifled under the weight of all this responsibility, but still hears the whispering of the Spirit as a gentle breeze …
There is nothing you can do that will make me love you more.


Now it’s your turn: Who does your Father say that YOU are?

Copyright 2021 Kimberly Lynch
Images (from top): Canva Pro; Nathan Dumlao (2017), Unsplash