Being A Momma...

I come from what is known now-days as a "larger family". There were five of us hoolies growing up. Two from my mother's first marriage (including myself), and three from a second marriage. And so, there was a bit of an age gap between the first "batch" and the second. When I was a "tweenie" my mother was busy adding on to the family. I didn't think much about it then, but the implications of being older and watching a family grow molded and shaped my view on child-rearing. Otherwise, I would have been the second-born and the "baby" of the family. I would know very little about nausea of pregnancy, little baby cries (or shall I say BIG cries), diapering, nap times, etc. Of course at the time these new little creatures in the family were the reasons why I couldn't get dropped off at the mall, couldn't have name-brand jeans, and couldn't sleep at night (due to the screams of a very colicky baby in the room next door). But now, those little creatures (now much bigger) are contributing factors to why I have chosen to grow my very own "large family" today. I loved the little toddlers running around (except, of course, when they happened to be running around MY room). I adored my little sister coming into my room every morning before school for me to fix her hair. The washing the cloth diapers out in the toilet? Yah, not so much my favorite. But still. I'm grateful now for even that grotesque experience. I saw the good, the bad and the ugly that goes into being a mother. I watched from a silent distance as my own mother went through her biggest heart aches. A child leaving home prematurely and angrily. A failed marriage. The loss of a baby. Teenage rebellion. I will never, ever forget catching a glimpse of her crumbled on her bed in tears over such difficulties. Disappointed in the hard times that being a mom does in fact bring. One thing she told me when I was pregnant with my first child that has to this day remained: "Having children will be your biggest joy and yet your biggest heart ache also." Two polar opposites. Yet both coincide when it comes to mothering. There will be ups. There will be downs. In the few, short twelve years that I have been a mom I have cried hard, hard tears for joy just as much as I have for sadness. Our kids...we wrap so much effort, love and emotion into them. Everything we do and say is with them in mind. After all, we are no longer responsible just for ourselves. The weight of responsibility is not a light one. But yet there's incredible freedom in knowing that when all is said and done they ultimately are God's children...on special loan to us. My only job is to do the best I possibly can with what imperfect human abilities I have. The rest is up to them. I used to think that how they turn out is a direct reflection of me and my mothering. And I don't deny that choices I make impact their lives in the present and also the future. However, the older I get the fuller I understand God's grace. That He is not above making perfection out of my imperfection. I look back to my own very imperfect upbringing and I often think...I shouldn't have this life that I love so very much. And statistically, it's true. Children from divorced families, from the particular kinds of dysfunction that I knew then have higher rates of divorce, drug and alcohol abuse, and so on. But the God I know and love doesn't deal with statistics. He chose to wrap me in love, grace and acceptance...even from a very young age. Looking back I see his fingerprints on my life throughout the years. And instead of taking it for granted, I choose to embrace it and wrap it back up into a daily gift of thanks as I go about my days being a mother.
As I type this post out, my girls sit at the dining room table. They're eating a snack and chattering away to each other. Giggling, goofing and grinning. My boys rest quietly nearby. So peaceful. So perfect. (They're resting up for their big all-night party they're planning later for their daddy and I ...) Life in all their little worlds is just about as good as it gets. They know very little about the joys of being a mom...or the sorrows required. Someday they'll understand, when they become parents themselves. Then a veil of ignorance will be lifted and much will become so very clear. A light bulb will go on and so much of what we're teaching and telling them now will make sense. Just as it has for me.
There truly is no better, more rewarding, more difficult, more challenging, more eye-opening, more character-building, more joy-filled job than being a mother. I look down at my worn, tattered, stretched out belly and the marks I bare. They're reminders. Badges of honor, if you will. I earned every one of them and they bring me no shame. Reminders of how sometimes it takes pain, discomfort and imperfection before something so beautiful can be brought forth.
Tonight we were putting our girls to bed Hubs declared it was my turn to pray. (We all rotate turns and I haven't had one in oh...A MONTH!) I began in my usual way...thanking God for the things of the day. And since it was Mother's Day, I felt obliged to include that, as well. As a rush of emotions (post-partum hormones?) came over me, all I could blubber out was "Thank you, Lord......for making me a mom." The waterfall began pouring down my face. I had no more words to speak. Like a child. God heard and accepted my humble offering. Tears erupted around the room and a very choked up Hubs ended with a simple "Amen." Sometimes the simplest and shortest of prayers have the most depth and meaning.
 Happy Mother's Day, Moms. Moms whose kids are grown, and moms whom are in the thick of it now. We are all blessed indeed.