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A Little Backstory
For the past few weeks, I've been really looking forward to writing a Mother's Day post. A day all about Moms on a blog all about Moms? It's a perfect fit! At least it was a perfect fit, that is, until I actually tried to start writing. And then tried again. And again. And again. This day means so many different things to so many different people and elicits so many different emotions. I had no idea where to even begin.
Every time I tried to pull it all together, something didn't feel right. The words just wouldn't come as a I stared at a blank screen. Or I wrote too much without saying anything at all. So there I sat, at 8:51pm the night before Mother's Day, trying to say something...anything...that would mean something...anything...to anyone out there reading it.
Just about the time I was getting ready to fold up my lap top and give this whole "Mother's Day post" thing a try next year, a notification came through on Facebook. I happily clicked on over to Facebook because obviously no writing was actually taking place on my end, and this seemed like as good a reason as any to continue procrastinating. Out of the blue, I had received a message from a friend who had gone back tonight and re-read the very first post I wrote when I started this whole blogging adventure a few months back. She shared how it had touched her, how it had encouraged her and actually thanked me for writing it.
Thanked me.
There it was. The words that had been eluding me. The words I needed to hear. The words that spoke to my heart.
I was shocked as I read her message. I didn't feel like I had done anything that warranted a thank you. A few months ago, I had simply put together a string of words, a few sentences, a couple of paragraphs, and sent them out into cyberspace, wondering if anyone would ever read them. But she did. And she thanked me for it. And that, along with the rest of her sweet message, made me cry. Right there at my computer, just as I was getting ready to call it quits.
In that moment, I realized how powerful those two little words were, and how much we all need to hear them. Even when we don't think we've done anything "special" to deserve them. And especially when we are just about ready to call it quits.
Sometimes, God doesn't work in mysterious ways. Sometimes, He just flat out works. At a time when I was struggling to find words myself, He was speaking them to me through her. It was the encouragement I needed, exactly in that moment, to put a post together for today.
So here is my Mother's Day post. It isn't perfect. But neither am I. It isn't exactly how I imagined it to be. But neither is Motherhood. It is simply from my heart.
I hope in some way, some part of it speaks to your heart on this Mother's Day.
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A Thank You Letter to Moms Everywhere
Thank you.
You. Yes, you. All of you.
Thank you.
Each and every one of you. Especially you; you who are feeling like you're hanging on by a thread today. And you; you who are joyfully soaking up every moment of your very first Mother's Day today. And you; you who are filled with grief and sadness today as you mourn a loss. And you; you who are overcome with gratitude and happiness and love today. And you; you who seems to roller coaster between all those feelings day in and day out. You. I'm talking to you.
Thank you.
Let me say that again in case it didn't quite sink in.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
You don't hear it nearly enough, but thank you.
Being a mom usually means long hours and lots of work, and often there aren't too many "thank you's" floating around. Sometimes it's because your child isn't able to speak those words. Sometimes it's because life just becomes so very busy that there aren't the moments for those words to be sincerely spoken. Sometimes it's because you are always there, doing what you do, and those words get forgotten.
Thank you.
Thank you for the little things. Thank you for the big things.
Thank you for changing diapers, changing sheets, changing clothes in closets as the seasons change and kids grow. Thank you for finding lost mittens, lost socks, lost library books, lost dreams and helping your child to believe in them again. Thank you for wiping noses, wiping down counters, wiping away tears. Thank you for applying band aids, applying kisses, applying yourself. Thank you for tying shoes, tying ribbons on pigtails, typing up loose ends. Thank you for washing uniforms, washing dishes, washing away past mistakes and letting your kids know it's OK to be human.
Thank you for always knowing the answer to the question "Where is my (fill in the blank)?" when it is asked by any family member at any time.
Thank you for sitting at endless baseball games, dance recitals, volleyball tournaments, band concerts, basketball scrimmages, and school plays. Thank you for helping to sell wrapping paper, cookie dough, coupon books and sub sandwiches so your child could participate in all those activities.
Thank you for telling your children no, even when it's hard; especially when it's hard. Thank you for providing them with boundaries and keeping them safe and helping them to understand that life is about so much more than just getting "your way."
Thank you for doing laundry. And more laundry. And more laundry.
Thank you for loving your child in a way only you can. Thank you for giving them a sense of worth just by being there for them, unconditionally, over and over and over again. Thank you for never giving up on them, even when it gets hard and you are exhausted. Thank you for having that special place in your heart that has been, and will forever be, saved for your child. No matter what.
Thank you for hearing what your children are really saying, even when that message is hidden behind different words; even when they aren't talking at all. Thank you for giving them space to grow and be who they need to be. Thank you for hugging them and holding them tight when they need that, too.
Thank you for the way you embody patience, grace, love, humility, kindness and selflessness. You are teaching these qualities to your children everyday without speaking a single word, simply through your actions, and most likely don't even realize you are doing it. Thank you for bringing to life these intangibles for your child to experience firsthand.
Thank you for the time, effort, love and care you put into your family. Thank you for working around the clock. Thank you for being real. Thank you for all the things you do, day in and day out, that you don't think of as "special" or deserving a thank you.
Thank you for being you.
Thank you for being a mom.
Happy Mother's Day! For today and for always, You Are a Good Mom.
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Sunday Night "Parent"dox #7: Believing Isn't Always Seeing
When I walked into my daughter's room last night to check on her, I found her tucked in bed, light on, with my camera snuggled up next to her. (She, of course, was still awake.)
"Why do you have my camera?"
"Mom, I need it so I can take a picture of my bedroom and take a picture of the Easter Bunny!"
(Some of my daughter's handiwork I found after confiscating the camera. A valiant effort on her part. Feels a little bit like you're on the Tilt-A-Whirl at a carnival, doesn't it?)
My sweet, sweet girl. I bent down, kissed her forehead, and assured her the Easter Bunny would only arrive once she was sound asleep. She reluctantly conceded and gave up the camera in exchange for her beloved "Lovey" and a few rounds of Mom singing "The Good Night Song" while snuggling her.
Even at the tender age of 2, my daughter was already looking to capture visual proof -- some sort of evidence -- of something she believed in, but had not seen with her own eyes.
Seeking My Own Photograph
This camera incident with my daughter had me reflecting on my own faith in a different way this Easter Sunday. How often do I ask God for a "photograph" of some sort? He sent His one and only Son to walk this Earth, to teach, to lead, and ultimately, to die for my sins. He paid the ultimate price for me. Yet time and time again, I find myself second-guessing, wondering, craving some kind of proof; some kind of photograph.
Can this be real, God? Do you really, truly love me -- me -- with all my flaws and shortcomings? Could you really have sacrificed your Son, in all of His perfection, to die for me, in all my imperfection? How can I believe your love and grace can be extended to even me when there is nothing I can see? No proof? No evidence? No photograph?
These questions creep into my thoughts more than I care to admit. In the small things, in the big things. When I worry. When I doubt. When I fear.
But He doesn't worry, He doesn't doubt, He doesn't fear. His love is bigger than all of that. His love is bigger than my imperfections, my flaws, my shortcomings. His love is bigger than my worry, my doubt, my fear. His love is bigger than my sin. He doesn't ignore my sin; He sees it and forgives it and loves me still. His love is bigger than I can ever hope to fathom.
For me, today is the greatest reminder of my faith; of not seeing, yet believing.
THE TOMB IS EMPTY! HE IS RISEN! HALLELUJAH!
No, I didn't see it myself. No, I have no photograph. But I am blessed with hundreds and hundreds of snapshots of God and His perfect love each and every day.
- My husband. My son. My daughter. My family. My friends.
- The way He provides for me, even when I struggle to know what it is I need. The way He is moving in my life for His purpose, even as I feel unsteady and unsure myself. The way I can be moved to tears of joy when I am worshipping Him, even as I face grief or sorrow.
- Love. Laughter. Life.
- The faithfulness of a new sunrise and a new start each day. The beauty and renewal of spring.
- The relationship I have with my heavenly Father. The feeling I try over and over to put to words, but find those words always falling short. The inexplicable peace and comfort I find when I turn to Him in the midst of a storm.
- The miracle of an almost-here niece. The sweet words of my children's prayers. The kind words of a stranger at Meijer.
He is present in the little things, in the big things. He is with me, always.
His photographs are all around me.
Seeking Photographs as Parents
In some ways, parenting requires a sort of faith, too: a faith in the future; a faith in ourselves. Day in and day out, we do our very best to make decisions in the best interests for our children. We search for the "right" words to comfort, teach and guide our children, the "right" consequences to help our children learn from their actions, the "right" decisions for the choices we face as parents.
When it comes down to it, we really have no way of knowing how we're doing in the day to day. We are asked to believe in our parenting, even without seeing immediate results. It comes down to faith.
Even when it is hard, even when we are faced with decisions that may break our hearts in the present, we make those decisions because we have faith that in the future, those tough decisions will pay off for our children. We have faith that we are providing them with a foundation to grow into the children, teenagers and adults God intends them to be. He gives us these beautiful, precious gifts for a short, short time, and we do our best to help them along the way to become loving, honest, responsible adults.
I know it's not easy. I can't even count the number of times I've wished for some kind of "proof" or "evidence" to know that I am on the right path of parenting. If only I could have that photograph of my children as adults. Just a quick little sneak peek to reassure me, to encourage me, to let me know they turned out "OK" and that I did "OK" as a parent.
Once again, if I slow down and take a closer look around, there are a few of those snapshots sprinkled here and there every once in a while.
- The unprompted "please" or "thank you."
- The pitter-patter of toddler feet into your bedroom one last time because "I have to tell you a question before I go to bed, Mom. I love you!"
- The genuine hug from brother to sister, when they think you aren't looking.
- The matter-of-fact way they tell you "Mom, guess what? Jesus loves me even more than you do!"
- The honesty and courage when they own up to a choice they made and are not proud of, but are learning from.
- The time they put away there coat and shoes without being asked.
- The afternoon at the library when they offer one of the trains they are playing with to the little boy who has none, all on their own accord.
These photographs may be fleeting, a little blurry at times, and may not occur as often as we'd like, but they are there if we look.
There are still those times, though, when my doubt, my worry, my fear kick in. I find myself wondering... Wouldn't it be amazing if we could just know? If we could just see that we are on the right path, and then it would be so much easier to believe in ourselves as parents?
But that's not how parenting works. That's not how faith works. It is believing in the unseen, trusting in the unknown. That is what makes it so amazing, so powerful, so beautiful.
Have faith in yourself as a parent, even when it is hard. Especially when it is hard. He put His faith in you when He put that child, His child, in your care.
Have faith, You Are a Good Mom.
"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart." ~Helen Keller
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Wondering what began all this blogging craziness? Check out my first post for the back story on "You're a Good Mom" if you're curious.
