I was a wild, vibrant young lady, A senior in high school. I was going through lots of struggles, (all of which I had brought upon myself ) ones that were not very typical for the average girl my age to even be pondering about. I was searching deep within to find myself. I worked in a local daycare center , maintained a home for my boyfriend and I , and studied at night. I was forcing myself to grow up at such a fast pace. I was always one of those young ladies who felt awkward around children. I remember vividly the look of horror on a friend’s face when I told her babies were squishy and weird (I wasn’t trying to be funny). To me , kids were slobbery, smelly, and way to inconvenient– to put it mildly . The idea of becoming a life support system for a completely dependent person dressed up in a tacky little sailor outfit seemed crazy. I didn’t even try to understand where people were coming from on that one.
Then I got Pregnant.
I walked out of that OB-GYN’s office feeling strange. I knew my life was about to change in a most fundamental way, but I had no idea how . It was like packing your bags for a long trip without knowing where you are going. I placed the mint-green diaper bag full of formula samples and how -to books on the kitchen table and told my boyfriend, “Well, we’re having a baby .”
Within about nine months , our little angel came into the world, and a seismic shift took place in me. The very day he was born, I became a different person. The natural resources we need to become parents lie dormant in the seedbed of our lives until the birthing process brings them into full bloom. Holding his fragile body, I realized for the first time that someone else was more important to me than myself. When the nurse took him away, I longed to be with him. I lay in my hospital bed listening to various cries from the nursery down the hall and knew instinctively which tiny voice was his. When we fall in love, we experience a degree of intense devotion that Scripture calls “agape “– the stakes go up significantly, and we realize that we must choose to become completely vulnerable if we’re ever going to taste the fruit of real love. We walk out on a limb and hopefully are rewarded. But still, there are limits to this love. There are certain transgressions that, If committed, would seriously, compromise our devotion.
With children , it’s different. There is nothing they can do to drive us away. And this is where the transformation takes place. If we can defined by the choices we make, the daily life of a mother is telling. She spends the majority of her capitol on her children without thought of compensation.
I remember shunning my own mother, after she’d work so hard to give me everything I ever wanted. I had a boyfriend and I wanted to spend all my time with him. So , I left home - Moved out at the young age of eighteen. I said hurtful things to my mother all without thinking. Now as I look back at my past and my behaviors it comes to mind how much my mom truly cares for me, and what amazes me still is that to this day she has never said anything about my past actions, yet she has always been an open door for me when I needed her.
My mother grew up as an only child. She remembers her mother working in the school cafeteria and hanging her clothes out on the line to dry. That common woman passed her work ethics down to my mom, whom I regularly watched venture off to work , even on weekends to help provide for her family. She was always a resource more than an ornament. More useful than comely. Only after I became a mother did my perspective deepen enough to see sublimity in the grace that she extends to others.
What do my children see in me ? Is there a glimpse of wonder there ? Do they see in me more work than I produce ?
How many of us really ever know our mothers ? We see them standing at the kitchen sink, unloading the groceries, and mopping the floor. They’re “mom ” not Sara or Susan or Juliette. They’re the women who haggle over the price of gas and nag their kids to clean their rooms, not people who contemplate Kierkegaard.
Yet I know in my own life, the restless gale of desire is never quieted. After a long day of work, traffic, homework,and dirty laundry, I fall into bed and hear the words of song that once inspired me. I see the constellations of Andromeda and Orion. And occasionally I want more than I have. When morning comes, I go through my routine like Walter Mitty, thinking of things that aren’t . I don’t have the luxury of indulging these thoughts,though, so I harness myself to the proverbial plow and work.
I am not alone. I know a girl with two babies who told me that she was just too busy to cry. Are we our mothers ?? Maybe. But being a mom has taught me that I never saw the whole picture from the other side.
Motherhood has led me to places I’d never previously been. When my youngest son was three, I tried to sing to him. “Please stop, ” He said. “Your out of tune “. That week I began searching for a music teacher and I still practice regularly to this very day .
The paradox of parenthood is that we’re the ones who should be teaching our children how to grapple with the challenges of this world, but in reality, it often works the other way around. Children show us how to exalt in monotony– how to find God in the here and now. At times, I’m pierced to by love too immense to suffer the confines of my small life, and that’s hard. But the answer for me , is Christ– who gave His life for mine and, in so doing, gives me the capacity to receive all that this splendid world can offer. I hold it in my arms each night when I put my children to bed.
So here’s the Trade- Off :
I get to give up my claim to myself. And receive love that defines logic. Yes, I’m tired and I don’t have much time for myself anymore. My house is a mess and I’m late a lot.
The few fashionable outfits I own have catsup stains on them . But who wants Paris without someone to share it with ??
I’ve found that the Moon and the Stars at night are just as miraculous to my little boys as they were to me when I first discovered them . I’m rediscovering life with them. And this time around, it’s purer. I ‘m nearly 30 and I build snowmen on my lawn before work , jump on my bed, play with my spaghetti , eat more frosting than cookies, and skip school with my boys to go to McDonald’s.
I play stare-eyes and Monopoly and “oh-my-goodness,where are my boys ?” I lick snow off the hood of my car, bury myself in a leaf pile , and attempt to climb trees. I spend my money on Lego’s , Transformers, and Pokemon Cards . I read lots of Junie B. Jones and Dr. Seuss books. I laugh till I cry and cry till I laugh.
I never really wanted kids. A perception exists among many young women (like me ) that motherhood is a vocation reserved for certain types of people. The words organized, nurturing, crafty, and Patient come to mind. But the mystery of parenthood is far deeper than our trifling categories.
Disorganized , anxious women who get lost on their daily commute, drink too much coffee, and stay up too late make terrific moms. I know from experience.
The unexpected transformation that takes place in a woman when she carries a child in her womb and gives birth is a act of both life and death. Something in us dies - a certain sureness, and aloofness, confidence that comes from taking care of only ourselves. In it’s place real love is born- naked, week, and true.
On this Mother’s Day I am very anxious to invite my one and only sister to the world of motherhood. She is awaiting the birth of her first child in November and she has already gained a lot of the motherly attributes that I have mentioned above. Don’t worry sister- You are gonna do just fine , you have got a Wonderful Sister and the World’s Greatest Mother on your side !! Now- if you could just give this sister of yours some training in the Aunt Department, we’d be just fine !
Happy Mothers Day Ladies !!
