The Ugly Mama

We were basking in the sun and playing on the warm sandy beach when my eye caught her. A young mom with her daughter and husband, I assume. The little girl looked no more than 4 or 5; curly brown locks tied up in a pony. While I kept a vigilant watch on my boys splashing on the shore, I listened to the family playfully enjoying the cool of the water. And when they began coming my way, I turned to watch them. I smiled as the mom and daughter struggled to float on the same inner tube. "Wait a minute...just wait a minute...", she harshly instructed the girl as she attempted to settle herself on the small floating circle. Her daughter playfully jumped on anyway, sending her Mama spiraling quickly into the water. And just as quickly as a flash of lightning, her countenance and voice changed. Though I was a little ways from them, her voice was heard loud and clear across the busy beach. Rage. Anger. She let right into her. And then...she hurled the "f-bomb" at her. The young girl froze, as I'm sure everyone on the shoreline did. It couldn't have been any louder. There was no attempt to even discreetly hide the ugly. It was said, and she looked no where near regretful. Instantly I was angered. And I wasn't even sure why. It's not as though my children had never heard those words, and only the youngest three were even around at the time to hear them. I wanted to be sarcastic. I wanted to be snarky. In my heart I was. Which really is no different.
I thought on this ugly event for the remainder of the day. And while I was driving the car my eldest daughter, whom wasn't even at the scene of the offense, brought up something similar in conversation. Another situation that she had seen go down with another parent. And I reminded her that as parents, we sometimes have to go through "the ugly" to get to "the beautiful". We never start off fully knowing what we're doing. And then I turned to her and asked, "Don't you think that I've had my days as a parent where I've lost my cool and said and done things that I wished I could take back?" She replied, "No, mom! I've always remembered you as so patient with us!" I laughed. Not just any kind of laugh. That obnoxious, loud, hearty, deep-stomach laugh. (It's so not feminine. But I just can't help myself sometimes.) And then I remembered. I remembered the days where I would snap at everything. Grumble and complain about most things. Bark commands to my children through gritted teeth and angry, angry eyes. It. Was. Ugly. 100% pure ugly. Negativity hovered over me like a dark cloud. And after I would say things I regret, I would look into my children's eyes and see nothing but wounds. My heart would shatter into a million pieces. It was not the "me" I always dreamed I would be as a mother. I would crawl into bed at night defeated and crying. Begging God to erase that entire day from my fragile children's memories. (Turns out He chose to answer that prayer....who knew?!) In that moment, I fessed up to my daughter. She knows the "me" I am now is still imperfect, that I still struggle with reactions and frustrations. But she also now knows this Mama has come a long way and will ever be a work in progress. The "me" I am now chooses to admit my failures. To ask for forgiveness. To strive be better.
As we sat in construction work, and the car was silent, I mulled over these things. And I remembered the "ugly" Mama at the beach. It occurred to me then why I was so angry. It wasn't about her less-than-classy parenting. It wasn't the potty-mouthed way she chose to communicate. It was simply that she was the "me" I know I have the potential to be. And I absolutely detest the "me" I used to be....and could so carelessly revert back to. It made perfect sense. And in that moment, the only feeling I felt for her was sorrow. For her. For her daughter. For myself. For my children. For the fact that she might not understand that life can be FULLER. Richer. Far less....ugly. It's all about choices. And perspective. And yes, it's a God-thing. A life-change thing.
When I put all these things to paper (or computer screen, as it were), I'm left feeling grateful. Thankful for the change in me that may have not been overnight...but it's there. Thankful for the reminder that my words contain such power...to destroy or speak life and hope. Thankful for God's grace blanketing my shortcomings as a parent. And trusting. Trusting that I'm not going this parenting journey alone. I've never gone it alone...even when I thought for sure the weight of it all was on me. And hopeful. For this Mama whom may need some beautifying in her own life. We're all a work in progress. We all have junk. We all fall short. May I seek to remember this when I look at another through such critical eyes.