The house can be a mess. The laundry can go unfolded. The to-do list can wait.

No matter what I do wrong during this parenting gig, my kids will never be able to say I wasn't there.

I always show up.

Even if it's the middle of the night.
Or freezing cold.
Or my to-do list is long.
Or my boss gets annoyed.
Or I hate hospitals.
Or I had a long week at work.
Or I am running out of prayers.
Or I don't have any more answers.

I show up.

For all the school activities and parent/teacher conferences.
For the injuries.
For the heartaches.
For the ER visits.
For the little celebrations.
And the big ones.

I show up.

When they can't fall sleep at a friend's house and want to come home.
When they throw up at school.
When they have a college visit but are too nervous to go alone.
When they have a migraine and need an ice pack and some Excedrin.
When they are exhibiting signs of depression and need to see a doctor.
When they just want their mom.

I show up for the top ten finishes
and for the wipe outs.
For the flawlessly performed piano recital and for the recital that they forget their music.
When they make the honor roll and when they are flunking a class.

I show up when they run into my arms
and when they can't stand being seen with me.

I. Just. Show. Up.

❤

[Here's me showing up for my daughter's below zero race day.]

❤

A version of this originally appeared on the author's FB blog page:

Faith in the Mess - Melissa Neeb, Writer