Being a Mommy

He’s the one who puts the empty tea pitcher back in the refrigerator. He’s the one who always hugs me before he leaves for school. He’s the one who has a stash of chewing gum in his bedside table that he thinks no one knows about.

 

He’s one of the few men who melt my heart. He’s at least 3 inches taller than me. He’s the child I wasn’t sure I wanted, but God knew I needed. More times than I can count I’ve watched him when he didn’t know I was looking & cried.

 

I remember him before he came, those months when he grew within and made me green with nausea. I remember laying my head against a cold window in the dark of night telling God I just didn’t think I could, and I didn’t know how a weary & broken girl could become the dwelling place of life.

Being a mother is anything & everything but easy. It is a vocation, a calling.

I came across his baby box while looking for something else tonight. I went through it and, after I had looked at everything several times, I just sat with the memories awhile. I don’t know when I’ll pass this way again. I pick up a worn Power Ranger. How can a dirty, used action figure make a mama hurt for all that time has taken away?

You’ve heard the story of the Velveteen Rabbit? My story as a mother is much like the rabbit's story. Made real by the years. Just the way grace can happen to you. It doesn't happen all at once, but eventually you become. And grace becomes you. Worn and weathered down to exquisite beauty.

It’s the threadbare simplicity, being softened and strengthened by the years. This mother keeps bending her worn knees with prayers that her child may walk straight paths.  And never ceases to pray for her own crooked heart.

 

Always reminding myself — Train up a child in the way he should go. Be ready to let him go and ready to forgive him. Extending the grace to him that has been given to me so many times.

Many times I forget that becoming the mother I want to be will hurt in a thousand ways. Today, as he left the house in the morning light for his first day of high school, I was reminded again. The weary and the wearing away is the most beautiful part.

These two children have made me sing and sob and they have made me know my sins and weaknesses. Strange, how it hurts and heals all at once.