As Mother’s day approaches I find myself reflecting so much on my Mom…and the childhood she gave me. My childhood was full of love and security and two parents deeply committed to the Lord, each other, and my sisters and I. I would come home from school to the windows open, curtains blowing, music on, my Mom cheerfully singing, a waiting snack and a listening ear. Idyllic. My childhood was idyllic.
James often asks me about when I was a little girl,
particularly what Nana and I did together.
Mom and I cooked, played, made crafts together, she taught me to sew,
she made numerous sheet forts, we had picnics, we would make homemade play
dough, she made up games we would play, we went on walks, we swung on the front
porch swing, we read bible stories, we sang.
We sang a lot. She even bought a
special music book and tapes that we would listen to in the car and sing along
to. You could play one side that had the
words and the other side just had the music. We went on many road-trips
together. My Mom taught me that people are so much more important than
things. She never one single time made
me feel badly for dropping and breaking a dish…which happened often. Although I didn’t know it then, she was
teaching me that it is more important for a child to have fun, express their
creativity, and enjoy being a kid than to have a house that always looked
company-ready. I was her shadow. Probably annoyingly so, although she never
made me feel that way. If she sat down,
I was right beside her, tucked under her as close as I could get. When Dad went out of town, I would curl up in
bed next to her. She taught me what it
looks like to love, respect and honor your husband. She demanded respect for him from us. I never one time heard my parents argue. She modeled what it
looks like to be a friend. She made our
home the “fun house” where everyone wanted to hang out and the other parents
felt good about it because it was a home where the Lord was loved, prayers were
said, nothing unacceptable was on the tv and everyone was welcome. She led me to the Lord. She led me to scripture when I had
questions. She led me in prayer when I
had concerns.
Through the difficult teenage years, she loved patiently and
didn’t give up. She corrected when I
went astray and forgave easily.
When she saw my choices making a clearly disastrous turn,
she lovingly tried to convince me of the right way to go. When I didn’t, she stepped back and let me
choose. When everything went wrong, she
never one single time said, “I told you so.”
She lovingly accepted me back, cried with me, helped me back up, and got
me through it.
Now, as a mother myself, she is my best friend, best source
of wisdom and counsel, and more respected and valued than ever before. During the early days of motherhood when
postpartum depression threatened to take over, Mom was there, every single day,
keeping my head above water. When I
think about the things that my children do that break my heart, I often think
about what my Mom went though. When I
think about how I feel like a failure on days that I’ve completely lost my cool
with the kids, I wonder how she made it all seem so effortless and easy.
I love being a mother.
It is all I have ever wanted. It
fulfills the deepest desires of my heart.
Being a mother is a precious gift, and one that I don’t take for
granted. But I learned that from my
Mom. I pray I can be half the mother
that she is. I pray that when my
children are grown and think back on their childhood, that they have
love-filled memories like my Mom has given me.
Mothering is hard work.
It’s thankless work. It’s
weighty, heart-breaking, painful, tearful, frustrating and even infuriating at
times. But it is the most rewarding,
gratifying, hopeful, life-investing, joyful, awe-inspiring job in the
world.
Since James was a tiny baby we would have family hugs. As he got older, if he saw Brad and I hugging
he would run up, yell “family hug” and make us pull him up with us. Now Jude joins in. Today, Brad took the boys shopping for my
Mother’s day gifts. The boys couldn’t
wait for me to open the big present. So
I opened it early. It was a thoughtful
gift, as all of Brad’s gifts are. Not
something I asked for but something he knew I wanted. When I was hugging him and thanking him for
it, both boys ran over to us and James yelled, “Family hug!” Brad and I looked down at their sweet little
smiling faces, all pressed into us. I
told him that I never want to forget what those sweet faces looked like right
at that moment. They won’t always want a
family hug. They won’t always be small
enough for us to pick them up for a family hug.
But they are today. I never want
to forget it…what it looks like to see those sweet little faces, to feel those
little bodies all wrapped around us, to smell that sweet little boy smell. They are so loved. And I am so grateful to be their Mama. I am so grateful that I have the best Mommy
in the world who modeled motherhood gracefully, graciously, lovingly and
joyfully.
Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things. -Robert Brault
Yammiepies, sweet Mommy.
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