I’d like to start a program. I’m going to call it Parenting Performance Review (PPR). It would be a time to sit down with your child and discuss how well YOU’VE done with THEIR current developmental phase. You could review all your hard work and get a real sense of accomplishment.

Two-year-old PPR would be so much fun…

Okay Mommy, you did figure out what to do when we’re in the car and I say ‘my tummy don’ feel good.’

Me: I did. I never forgot the emergency sick bag after that first time, did I?

You didn’t. But you still don’t seem to know the difference between ‘I hungry’ crying and ‘I tired’ crying.

Me: True, but sometimes you mean one even when you say the other, and sometimes you don’t use any words, and…

Needs improvement.

Me: That’s fair. But can we talk about potty training?

Let’s workshop that for next phase.

Me: Oh…uh…okay…

…Surprisingly not so fun. What about twelve-year-old PPR…

Mom, you still don’t understand what it means when I say, ‘I don’t know…’

Me: Well, in my defense, that one is EXTREMELY contextual.

It seems fairly straightforward to me.

Me: No, no it’s not. Depending on the situation, sometimes you mean, ‘I know a lot, but I’m not telling you,’ or sometimes you actually mean ‘I don’t know.’

I see your point.

Me: Or sometimes you even mean ‘I wasn’t listening and have no clue what words just came out of your mouth.’ You see what I’m working with here?

Again, I see your point.

Me: Thank you. I’d like to…

Needs improvement. On to the next phase, then?

Me: Uh…I guess so…

…Wow. That one was even LESS fun. Then Teen-Years PPRs…

Mother, I’m about to jump three phases ahead. However, your progress concerns me.

Me: Wait a minute…jump three a-what-now…?! MY progress..?! We agreed that I wouldn’t have to complete the Don’t-Ever-Say-My-Child-Would-Never Module in this phase. And yet just last week…

I remember it as being more of a “best effort” agreement.

Me: Don’t use those air quotes with me. I told you I had just been through that module with your brother, and you said…

I said I’d try. “Best effort.”

Me: I’m about to slap those air quotes right into next week…

Needs improvement. Moving on!

…Forget it, I’ve changed my mind. This program is horrific.

I’ll be honest – all I really want is for someone to tell me I did a good job at being a mother. A good job with the baby things and the half-grown things and the suddenly-an-adult things. Or just tell me I did a decent job, or an okay job, or even a not-half-bad job. I just want one review for one of the biggest jobs of a lifetime.

Do you ever feel that way? Maybe you have a different biggest job. Maybe you’re raising a special needs child, or caring for a loved one who is slowly slipping away. Or maybe you’re toiling in a ministry, or building a business. Or struggling to change your life in a world that wants to keep you on a wrong path.

Whatever your biggest job is, it’s almost impossible to ever feel completely acknowledged. Because no one else knows exactly how hard you’ve worked. Or how badly you’ve messed up.

Except for God. When Jesus tells a story about the kingdom of heaven, these are the words that the master offers:

“Well done, good and faithful servant!” Matthew 25:21

You made it. You never gave up. Imagine hearing that from your Creator. From the only one who really does know how much you struggled, how badly you messed up, and how he carried you through it all. Well done, indeed.