Showing posts with label archives. Show all posts
Showing posts with label archives. Show all posts

Monday, April 27, 2015

Laboring Through Motherhood

{Today I'm working on a few submissions to other publications, but I didn't want to leave you in the lurch! Sharing an archived post written mere hours before Rosemary made her appearance two years ago. Holding on to these thoughts today.}
  



Birthdays were celebrated.  Easter eggs dyed, hunted, relished.  Little girl hair curled and boys in vests and button downs, all in a row on Easter morning.  We made it through March, and time just marches on by.

I'm a mixture of relief and exhaustion these days - relieved that those busy days are past and too exhausted to think of what comes along next.  In these 10 years of being a mother, you'd think I would have learned by now that plans go awry and the way we envision things to unfold rarely is played out in reality.

My sister and I used to play a game, tell one another not to imagine something a certain way - certain that, if we did, it would turn out the exact opposite.  So we'd intentionally not daydream about Mom buying us a new pair of jeans or the boy we liked from afar asking for our phone numbers.  A silly childhood game, to be sure, but I still think about that now...all these years later.  As the saying goes, Man plans - God laughs.

It consumes my thoughts during these late pregnancy days.  And reminds me that the waiting and the wondering of late pregnancy is really a hint into the work of motherhood that lies ahead.  That place where dreams and plans and aspirations don't always turn out the way we envision.  Most of us enter motherhood with a list of do's and do nots.  In our ignorance, we make outrageous claims.  "I would never do...."  "I will always..."



I've had my moments of mothering arrogance, as I'm sure we all have.  I've also had my moments of utter and complete humility.  Those are the moments where I think we can see just how mothering changes us, for better or worse.  Like in labor, the only way out is through.  The only way out of a tough night with a house full of sick kids?  Is through.  The only way out of a bad situation with a teenager is to work through the problem.  We learn time and again that, in mothering, sticking our fingers in our ears and ignoring the struggles that we face will never get us through them.  We'll simply be stuck somewhere in the middle.

When the only way out is through, sometimes the way through is to let go.  Let go of expectations, ideals, our do's and don'ts.  Let go of that picture perfect vision in our minds of the way life ought to be, and grab hold of the way it is.  Accepting the children and spouses we have, our own weaknesses and strengths, and lay hold to the freedom of knowing that the very act of embracing a life of service means we got the most important part of it right.


Mothering is raw and real and, at times, ruthless...not a neat little hobby, an accessory to an already full life.   Like labor, this is a ride of waves.  A swell that peaks and then dissipates, day after day after day.  Some more intense than others.  Some we doubt are real, some we can hardly breathe through.  The only way out is through and the ride is long, but with determination, we can all reach the other side, the triumph of a job well done - a life well lived.  Even when we've left some plans and priorities behind.

In laying claim to these truths, we grab hold of the perseverance required in this holy and hard vocation...You and me?  We've got what it takes.  Not perfectionism, but humility and strength.

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Monday, December 15, 2014

Why Nothing You Can Do Can Make (Or Break) Christmas



Oh, that look.  The twitch.  The shaky proclamation "you all think Christmas just HAPPENS, don't you?"

Even commercials poke fun at her, the run down vision of a mom who has visited 10 stores in pursuit of whatever toy her child requested, stayed up til 2 am wrapping gifts or baking 10 different kinds of cookies for some gathering or other.

It's a joke and we all know it - most of us can relate to feeling that way at some time during the holiday season.  But beneath the laughter at it all, a still small voice inside me tells me to take a closer look.


It's Saturday and he's taken most of the kids out shopping.  The baby naps and I clean and straighten decorations, preparing for company in the evening.  And as I clean I begin to see the pride and perfectionism in it all.  "Take them with you," I had said.  "I can't get the house nice with them here."  As if a home couldn't be Christmas-ready a midst childish mayhem.


It's a seductive thought.  We like to think we are the ones who do it all.  Our spreadsheets and lists of all of the extras keep us up at night, yet for some reason we enjoy it.  The idea that it all hinges on us - and that we could make this special for the people around us.

Mamas, we don't "make" Christmas.  We may feel like we do.  We may think we do.  We may even try to.  "I just want to make this Christmas special."  "I want to make great memories during the holidays."  "I want to make my home beautiful for Christmas."


The truth is, the God of the universe did not elicit our help when He made Christmas.  In fact, were we on the earth at the time, likely we wouldn't have even recognized it at all.  He didn't need party planners and tinsel, flickering candles or perfectly coordinating family outfits to make Christmas happen.  So why do we so often feel like we do?

"It just wouldn't be Christmas without (fill in the blank)."

Yes, it would.

God made Christmas by giving all of humanity a gift that we didn't even know we needed or wanted. He didn't wrap it in bright holly red and he didn't order it from Amazon.  He made it.  He didn't need us to make it special.  He still doesn't.

I can't make Christmas any more than I can make reindeer fly.  I can't make it by scrubbing my house extra bright or by playing Christmas music from dawn to dusk.  I can't do it by decorating cookies with my little ones or surprising my husband with the perfect gift on Christmas morning.

God makes Christmas, and He offers us, even now, His Christmas gift: Peace.  So why is it still so hard for us to accept?

Peace is lost in pursuit of perfection and I can't receive my heaping Christmas dose if I'm still convinced that I'm still the one who makes it all happen.  Peace comes when I make space in my home and heart for Him and invite my little ones along on the journey - welcoming Christ's Christmas and letting everything else gently go.

This Advent, I'm praying to let go of pride and perfection and accept His gift of Peace.

"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests."
Luke 2:14


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