"Mommy"

Becoming a mommy is not the same as becoming a mother.  I have been a mother for a while now.  Not long enough to be very good at it, for sure.  But long enough to know some things.  Just some.  There are so many moments, during so many circumstances that I want to burst into tears because I do not know the right thing to do.  It could be something as insignificant as,"Should they play on the computer while I get dinner ready?" or something that carries a bit more weight like,"How do I respond to such disrespect or flagrant disobedience...punishment or mercy?  Or can I do both?"

The transition from anticipating being a mom to the reality of being a mom for the first time is quite shocking.  Maybe for some it comes very naturally, but this was not my experience.  It was hard work!  It was all-day-and-all-night work.  It was spit-up and blow-out diapers and really sore nipples work. 

Then there were the smiles and the coos...oh, how happy those things were!  Those sweet looks, those eyes that were just for me.  Michaela was delightful, and she brought joy to everyone around her.  She became a big sister with the greatest of ease.  She made it easy for me to become the mother of two.  And since I had done this before, the difficulties weren't so great with Christian, when he was a baby.

Time passed, and there were many changes.  We left friends in a seminary community; we lived in a place where I didn't know many and the few that I knew I didn't feel very connected with; for a while I was exercising but then I had two miscarriages so I stopped exercising and haven't started again; we moved again, had another baby, moved again, lost another baby, moved again.  For years I worked hard at something that I don't even think I was aware of doing...distancing myself from others, especially my family.  I had a job as a homemaker but I didn't show up to work.  I was busy with something else, something inside myself, all about myself. 

One of my favorite bloggers is Miz Booshay.  She is a wonderful, lovely, Christian woman who is always encouraging, says simple and profound things, and takes beautiful pictures.  Just recently on her blog she wrote:

I know I have a lot of fulfilling to do. I do not believe I have arrived.
I have joy in my heart and I'm pretty sure that means I am on the right path. 
I feel so sure that I was created to love others.
Perhaps it becomes clearer when I realize how miserable I am when I love myself most.
Isn't it funny how that works?

I was really struck with the intense truth of these words.  I read them just after my, well, what we have been calling my resurrection around here.  It is very true...loving one's self the most leads to a great deal of misery.

So, I struggled for a while with this job.  I wondered what God was thinking when he made me a mom.  Like Eve, I looked for someone else to blame for what seemed like a mess...this situation in which I found myself.  Like Adam, I sought to tell God this was his fault.  I was looking at myself instead of at the three small miracles that had been, literally, handed to me, from my very own body.  Instead of looking at myself in them, and at the three very unique persons which were a blend of myself and my husband.

Just recently I have taken on, or been given, fresh eyes to see what is before me.  Some days are easier than others...at times it seems like I have put on very old glasses foolishly thinking that they will help my vision, when in fact, they blur and darken things.  But when my fresh eyes are open wide and clear then what I see is beautiful.  Oh, they still fight, and disobey, and do naughty things.  But when they smile!  Or when they sing!  Or when they tell me they love me and give me an unsolicited hug!  What treasures I get to store in my heart!

Tonight I was reading a book that my good friend Missy sent me.  I'll tell you about it when I'm done.  I was reading this book in a quiet house, the dishwasher was swishing water in the background, but all else was still.  Suddenly I heard a very, very quiet,"Mommy."  It was such a faint whisper, that I wasn't even sure I actually heard anything at all.  Then again,"Mommy."  I looked to the top of the first flight of our stairs and saw in the shadow there Eliana, standing with her head leaning against the slats that form the railing, holding her little white doggy in the crook of her arm.  Her hair hung, a bit straggly, in front of her face, looking wild and sweaty.  She just stood there as I came over to the steps, and as I neared the top of the stairs she held her arms out to me. 

Mommy.  That is me.  That is who I am becoming.  And there is joy in it.