An Ode to Mother's Day
Another Mother's Day has come and gone. It's a day to honor mothers and the jobs we do, the sacrifices made, and the lives we're given to raise.
I loved seeing everyone's posts of their Sunday gatherings and celebrations with smiling children adoring their moms. I felt fully loved and celebrated on Mother's Day but the photos posted only told a portion of the story. Being completely honest, just as the pictures showed, it was quite an ordeal to get those little rugrats to smile and cooperate. The expression "herding cats" was the visible reality of trying to get them to participate in the obligatory photo session. Mom wanted group photos with her daughters and grandkids and we were delighted to oblige her - well, the grown children acting like mature adults were in agreement. Now we had four kids to wrangle and it was an even bigger fiasco. There were tears, screams, meltdowns, and frowns. We had 3 phones and about 45 pictures snapped in order to get a few that were "post-worthy."
I decided people needed to realize the smiling images of me with my adorable little angels wasn't the only sight they should see.
Me: Just one picture...hold still!!
Violet: Put me downnnnnnnn!!!!
Eli: Mom, how long do I have to stand here???
I don't claim to have it all together. I battle guilt every time I take my child to her loving sitter and then I beat myself up for not being more engaging and creative on the days I'm at home with my kids. I rally to put the kids to bed as if I'm sprinting the last lap of a marathon and then wish I had savored their bedtime cuddles just a little longer. There's a constant nagging in my head over whether or not I do enough for them while trying to balance overindulging and not raising spoiled brats. The struggle is real. SO REAL. Anyone???
Even as I scrolled through my friends' posts, I wondered how we all manage to raise these little people and keep any amount of sanity. We sure did pull it together nicely for Mother's Day. At least long enough for the photos. I remember a few years ago when I asked for a do-over on the whole Mother's Day event because of my disgraceful attitude and disastrous series of events. That wasn't yesterday but the photo shoot was more than laughable. It was a lesson. A reminder.
Moms, I need you to hear me. I walk through the valley of my insecurity that casts a dark shadow on my ability to do this thing called motherhood. When it comes to wondering if I am enough, it hits literally too close to home at the thought of somehow failing my family. Make no mistake. I prayed for these children. I begged God on bended knee through trials and tears. He heard me and answered and saw fit to bless me with these two who call me mom only to leave me wondering if I can actually do it. If I can actually raise them to be fully-functioning adults who won't be psychologically scarred because of their mother. Okay, okay. Maybe it's not that bad but I wouldn't be completely transparent without admitting to you my deep fears of failure - worse, failing them.
When I'm wondering how it can feel like completing a triathlon just to get myself and two kids out the door on any given weekday, I ask myself if I'm enough. When I'm barely strong enough to climb into bed after fulfilling requests and beckoned calls all day and beat myself up for not spending a few more minutes reading or snuggling, I ask myself if I'm failing. When I'm battling the will of a toddler and determined to be stronger in things like pacifier wars and potty training, I pray for strength and grace not to lose myself and not to break her spirit. When I prepare for yet another IEP meeting and try to find the balance between biting my tongue and intervening for my boy, I wonder if I'm doing more harm than good. Claiming the biblical promise that children are a heritage from the Lord, I often find myself worried sick about how I'm falling so short of turning their hearts and minds to Him.
The demons of comparison and judgement are prowling to steal our joy and rob us of the precious moments we have in raising our kids. The inner battle that wages within is certainly one of spiritual warfare. Being suited up is more than just for myself. It's on behalf of the souls of the lives I've been given to raise. We are but stewards of our time and talents and even these treasures of children, but it's our responsibility to be armed and spiritually ready because it's a blood bath of guilt, shame, and judgement - and I'm not talking about social media. I'm talking about spiritual warfare and the best way it knows how, it will wreck havoc on you as a mother by telling you you're not enough. Convincing you you're a failure and you're failing your kids. Not today, Satan. Not today.
As we come off the high of celebrating mothers everywhere, I pray we'll be reminded of the importance of our faith and deep roots in Christ. I want to be the kind of mother Timothy had - the one who passed down sincere faith from generation to generation (See 2 Timothy 1:5). I want my kids to rise up and call me blessed because of how truly blessed I am to be given this chance to invest and impact their lives. I want to raise up a generation who will not depart from the wisdom of God's Word. Let this season of celebrating mothers be our fervent encouragement to be filled up as a drink offering, ready to give and give some more, until every drop we have to give runs dry. Let us draw upon the strength of the Lord so that even in our weakness we can be made strong. Let us run the race set before us because before we know it, they'll be grown and gone.
Here's to you mothers. Enduring the sleepless nights. Managing toddler temper tantrums. Battling defiant teens. Sending young adults into the world. May your cup run over even when you feel like you can't give any thing more.
I loved seeing everyone's posts of their Sunday gatherings and celebrations with smiling children adoring their moms. I felt fully loved and celebrated on Mother's Day but the photos posted only told a portion of the story. Being completely honest, just as the pictures showed, it was quite an ordeal to get those little rugrats to smile and cooperate. The expression "herding cats" was the visible reality of trying to get them to participate in the obligatory photo session. Mom wanted group photos with her daughters and grandkids and we were delighted to oblige her - well, the grown children acting like mature adults were in agreement. Now we had four kids to wrangle and it was an even bigger fiasco. There were tears, screams, meltdowns, and frowns. We had 3 phones and about 45 pictures snapped in order to get a few that were "post-worthy."
I decided people needed to realize the smiling images of me with my adorable little angels wasn't the only sight they should see.
Me: Just one picture...hold still!!
Violet: Put me downnnnnnnn!!!!
Eli: Mom, how long do I have to stand here???
I don't claim to have it all together. I battle guilt every time I take my child to her loving sitter and then I beat myself up for not being more engaging and creative on the days I'm at home with my kids. I rally to put the kids to bed as if I'm sprinting the last lap of a marathon and then wish I had savored their bedtime cuddles just a little longer. There's a constant nagging in my head over whether or not I do enough for them while trying to balance overindulging and not raising spoiled brats. The struggle is real. SO REAL. Anyone???
Even as I scrolled through my friends' posts, I wondered how we all manage to raise these little people and keep any amount of sanity. We sure did pull it together nicely for Mother's Day. At least long enough for the photos. I remember a few years ago when I asked for a do-over on the whole Mother's Day event because of my disgraceful attitude and disastrous series of events. That wasn't yesterday but the photo shoot was more than laughable. It was a lesson. A reminder.
Moms, I need you to hear me. I walk through the valley of my insecurity that casts a dark shadow on my ability to do this thing called motherhood. When it comes to wondering if I am enough, it hits literally too close to home at the thought of somehow failing my family. Make no mistake. I prayed for these children. I begged God on bended knee through trials and tears. He heard me and answered and saw fit to bless me with these two who call me mom only to leave me wondering if I can actually do it. If I can actually raise them to be fully-functioning adults who won't be psychologically scarred because of their mother. Okay, okay. Maybe it's not that bad but I wouldn't be completely transparent without admitting to you my deep fears of failure - worse, failing them.
When I'm wondering how it can feel like completing a triathlon just to get myself and two kids out the door on any given weekday, I ask myself if I'm enough. When I'm barely strong enough to climb into bed after fulfilling requests and beckoned calls all day and beat myself up for not spending a few more minutes reading or snuggling, I ask myself if I'm failing. When I'm battling the will of a toddler and determined to be stronger in things like pacifier wars and potty training, I pray for strength and grace not to lose myself and not to break her spirit. When I prepare for yet another IEP meeting and try to find the balance between biting my tongue and intervening for my boy, I wonder if I'm doing more harm than good. Claiming the biblical promise that children are a heritage from the Lord, I often find myself worried sick about how I'm falling so short of turning their hearts and minds to Him.
The demons of comparison and judgement are prowling to steal our joy and rob us of the precious moments we have in raising our kids. The inner battle that wages within is certainly one of spiritual warfare. Being suited up is more than just for myself. It's on behalf of the souls of the lives I've been given to raise. We are but stewards of our time and talents and even these treasures of children, but it's our responsibility to be armed and spiritually ready because it's a blood bath of guilt, shame, and judgement - and I'm not talking about social media. I'm talking about spiritual warfare and the best way it knows how, it will wreck havoc on you as a mother by telling you you're not enough. Convincing you you're a failure and you're failing your kids. Not today, Satan. Not today.
As we come off the high of celebrating mothers everywhere, I pray we'll be reminded of the importance of our faith and deep roots in Christ. I want to be the kind of mother Timothy had - the one who passed down sincere faith from generation to generation (See 2 Timothy 1:5). I want my kids to rise up and call me blessed because of how truly blessed I am to be given this chance to invest and impact their lives. I want to raise up a generation who will not depart from the wisdom of God's Word. Let this season of celebrating mothers be our fervent encouragement to be filled up as a drink offering, ready to give and give some more, until every drop we have to give runs dry. Let us draw upon the strength of the Lord so that even in our weakness we can be made strong. Let us run the race set before us because before we know it, they'll be grown and gone.
Here's to you mothers. Enduring the sleepless nights. Managing toddler temper tantrums. Battling defiant teens. Sending young adults into the world. May your cup run over even when you feel like you can't give any thing more.
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