New Year's Resolutions Aren't So Bad
And what kind of person/parent do you want to be?
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New Year's Resolutions Aren't So Bad
And what kind of person/parent do you want to be?
Happy New Year, Reader! Is your Christmas tree still up? Are you clinging to the Christmas season as I am or are you ready to restore your home back to its normal decor? I’m in the mood to talk about New Year’s resolutions. And parenthood, or really, personhood. Will you join me?
Every time I think about New Year’s resolutions, the echoes of people who are against them ring in my ear. “We shouldn’t have to wait until the New Year starts to make resolutions!” they say, or something of the like. But I would challenge, why not?
The turning of another year gives us time to reflect on this passed one. What did we achieve? Where did we struggle? What mistakes did we make? And how can we do better? What poor habits have we held onto? And gosh darn it, how about we get rid of them!
A writer friend, and fellow new mama, and I were talking recently about the types of mothers we are, or perhaps, want to be. Our babies were scattered on the floor along with their toys and fruit pouches, each wanting what the other has. And I was overwhelmed with how to answer.
Can I be honest, reader? I’ve never had a role model in my life. I wasn’t surrounded by people you could look up to and aspire to be like. I was surrounded by a lot of people you just had to survive. Or people you love but don’t necessarily want to grow up to be like. And in not knowing how to be young woman, how to be a person, I’ve made so many mistakes in life. I’ve allowed so much, and so many people, to hurt me. I’ve hurt myself. I’ve hurt others. Most importantly, I’ve hurt the Lord. Praise Jesus, His love has changed me. He is beyond merciful. He has made me new. Every day since I gave my life to Him, He teaches me how to do everything. Everything. He is my only true role model.
I remember telling my baby brother, Teddy, that I was pregnant. We are half siblings. 12 years apart. My love for him has been the only constant in my life since I was girl. And before I married my husband and had a baby, Teddy was the person I cared most in the world for.
“You’re going to be great mom,” Teddy said.
Coming from an angsty 14-year-old boy with long black hair and staple black clothing, this took me off guard for a moment. I know my brother loves me, but the warm fuzzy conversations had taken a hiatus through his adolescent years.
“Really?” I said, “Why?”
“Because you’ve always been a mom to me.”
My heart filled. I didn’t want to be a mom to Teddy. I wanted to be his big sister. But growing up in a home surrounded by drug and alcohol addiction, untreated mental illnesses, abuse, neglect, just overall, a home very far from Jesus, maternal I became. Someone had to. What would’ve become of Teddy? What became of you? I know my therapist would ask. Thank you, Shannon! Not good things! But I’m also grateful I was there to do it. If you grew up in a similar home, I’m sure you understand.
So, as 2025 inches toward us, I am juggling so many thoughts about the mother I want to be. Being a mama in 2024 was pretty much centered around keeping my newborn baby alive, trying to get her to stop crying, trying to get her to sleep, and getting out of the office where I work as a mental health therapist so I could be a (mostly) stay-at-home-mom. Mixed with lots of kisses, cuddles, and giggles. And diapers. Lots of diapers. But 2025? There will be more asked of me. And more and more with each passing year as she grows and matures.
So, Katie, I ask myself, what kind of mother do you want to be?
Or rather, Jesus, what kind of mother do You want me to be?
Which really includes the kind of sibling I want to be, the kind of spouse, the kind of person, the kind of servant of the Lord.
Some easy ones come to mind.
I want to be on my phone less and in books more. I want my daughter to grow up seeing her mother reading before bed, reading on airplanes and train rides, with a growing library that inspires her to have the patience and curiosity it takes to slow down and read. I don’t want my face lit up by a screen during play time, checking notifications, checking anything. I want her to remember me as someone who was not only home, but present, who chose her over any distraction modern technology had to offer.
I want to be a mom who never speaks poorly of herself or her body in front of her daughter. I want my baby to grow up knowing that she is fearfully and wonderfully made, a handcrafted masterpiece by the Creator Himself, confident (not cocky), in her unique design both inside and out.
I want to be a mother who is curious and compassionate, never criticizing or condemning. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned being a therapist (and seeing a therapist as a client for about a decade) it’s that criticism and condemnation aren’t actually catalysts for change. Only love is. In fact, all they do is harm. The only change that’s lasting for people comes through love.
I want to be a mother who pursues her children. I think of my Aunt Kathleen, whom I’m named after. Who lived on the other side of America but managed to fly down to see my dance recitals, my 8th grade graduation, senior graduation. I only saw her once to three times per year, but with her I felt seen. I felt known. And loved. She held my hand when we walked side by side. She gifted me my first journal in the third grade which I have saved to this day. She was silly. She loved to dance. Even in her old age.
She pursued people. Even me, her youngest niece, despite having 4 other siblings, seven nieces and nephews, 3 children, 10 grandchildren, even more on her husband’s side I’m sure, and with a personality like hers, a dozen friends at least I’m certain. Her heart was that big. She was a stay-at-home mom and the love she poured out to her kids is still evident to this day. Yes, I want to be like her.
I want to lead a slow, quiet life as Scripture says. To stay off the internet. To be a soft place to land. To be humble and lowly, like my Lord, all the days of my life.
I want to be the mom that dances in the backyard, the kitchen, the living room. Quick to nurture and comfort and caretake and laugh, curious to ask questions, eager to celebrate their achievements, their quirks, their God-made individuality, patient to give direction, rooted in Scripture always, boasting gladly of Jesus, His mighty hand and miracles in my life, all the slavery and bondage He has rescued me from. How undeserving I am of His love and how He lavishes us with it anyways.
I want to be like a tree bursting forth with the fruits of the Spirit. With a Bible with well-worn pages and black ink notes that never stops being read. I want to pray boldly in front of my children, to cast out demons when necessary, to be a woman of God clothed in both His strength and His tenderness, His boldness and His gentleness, His mercy and His compassion.
I want to make a house not only home but holy ground. With walls anointed in oil and the Holy Spirit saturated throughout the rooms. Yes, ultimately, I want to be like Him. So that when they encounter Jesus and His Word, they will not have to struggle to imagine a God that invites them into relationship, into His family, who pursues them, who wants to know them, really know them, and encourage them and support them through all the hilltops and valleys of life.
They will not have to wrestle with the idea that there is someone named Jesus who loves them wildly and unconditionally. It will make sense meeting their Heavenly Father because they have a mother who has sought to know them and love them, who is the dwelling place for His Holy Spirit, who no longer lives but Christ lives in her.
Yes, I want to glorify Him.
When my children read Matthew 11:28, “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest,” I want them to say, “That makes sense.”
When they hear “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat!” from Isaiah 55:1, I want them to say, “That makes sense.”
When they find “The Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come!’” in Revelation 22:17, I want them to think, “Of course they do. Because my mom has been pursuing me like Christ since the beginning.”
Will I be perfect? No. No one is. Will I be great, even? I hope so.
Will I apologize and take responsibility for my shortcomings when they happen? Yes, always.
Will I show my children how to repair and reconcile relationships when I inevitably hurt their feelings and make mistakes along the way? Absolutely.
Will our home be a living example of the Gospel through me and my husband’s leadership?
In Jesus’ name.
Katie Donohue Tona
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With the prize in mind and the Lord by your side, I know you will go far for His glory!
Brilliant. A woman, mother, and believer of my own heart. God bless you and your family in the coming year, Katie!