I love being a mother. Maybe y’all have caught on to that before, haha, but I just like to say it sometimes.
It is one thing I rarely take for granted (although we all fail; I’m a sinner too!), because I realize (more than many) how fragile life is, how precious children are, how quickly & frequently they can be snatched away, and what a gift it is to be the steward of an eternal soul. I love the daily aspects, the long term aspects, the eternal aspects. I love the physical interaction, the emotional relationship, the spiritual guiding. I love that my refrigerator is covered in toddler-art masterpieces. I love that there are toys in my home. I love that sippy cups line one of my cupboards. I love that there is a monitor in my bedroom like an ever-present spy on my little boy. I love that we’ve got a carseat in my car. I love that I get to kiss the boo-boos and wipe the tears. I love that I get to change, rinse, wash, and fold diapers over and over. I love that I have a shadow for everything I do. I love getting kisses, giving kisses, and asking for kisses. I love reading books twelve times in a row. I love asking, explaining, commanding, and repeating. I love forgiving. I love learning humility. I love using a single chocolate chip to reinforce a job well done. I love not being my own and not being alone. I love that I get to learn how to wisely train, discipline, and disciple this small immortal.
I love reading about motherhood. Not only practical, how-to type books; but just reading others’ experiences, their joys, their activities, their accomplishments.
I love talking about mothering. Diapers and discipline, toys and tasks, schedules and soul-nurture, playing and preaching, bathtime and busy hands… I love it all.
I love sharing with bereaved mothers. Sharing my heart, my prayers, my time, my tears, my books, my gifts, my words, my ears, my silence, my shoulder, my Savior. I love talking about my six children in heaven, reminding even myself that they are truly alive, truly blessed, truly mine.
This is who I am.
This is who God made me.
This is who God has given to me.
And as a coda, here is a beautiful tribute on a mother’s work. Now please excuse me while I go joyfully put my hands, body, mouth, words, heart (my everything, really) to task at this good, worthwhile, exercising work.
This work that is worship.