And then she spends the next few years, which seem to pass with a mere blink of an eye, packing lunches and wiping noses and kissing boo-boos and changing diapers. At the same time, she cooks supper and oversees homework and projects. She juggles laundry and carpool and schedules like a skilled acrobat. She walks the tight rope between who she was and who she's becoming. Balancing everything square on her shoulders.
She hits her knees, eyes lifted to the One who gives wisdom. And as she wiped away tears, she accepts His grace like a sip of cool water. She gulps it down because it gives Life to her bones.
She drives hundreds of miles between school and work and dance and soccer and ball fields, while logging more miles in the space between her baby's bedroom and her own.
She makes mistakes, because who doesn't. But like any warrior, she brushes herself off and goes back to battle. Because the very life of her child depends on it.
She wrangles arms and legs and giggles in the morning while running late. Always while running late. She wrestles back the evil of this world the best she knows how and picks up the pieces when evil slithers in.
She serves. Protects. Rocks and rolls. She guides and directs. Sings and dances.
She searches for monsters under beds and deep in closets. She is a safe haven in the midst of the storm. A light that beckons in the pitch black darkness.
No matter her chosen career path, she is a nurse, a teacher, a dancer, a coach, a chauffeur, a chef, a maid, an organizer, a coordinator.
She is mom.
You and me.
And we brave the toughest of days and laugh at the smallest of joys. We do it, not for the recognition or appreciation, but because we have been blessed by a reward from Heaven. A reward not to be set on a shelf to collect dust. But a reward to be relished and admired. Respected and esteemed.
We are the women on the frontline. Doing battle for our kids. For their hearts and souls. The laboring and sweating and writhing in pain never stops, you know. At least not this side of Heaven.
Keep mothering, my friend. We may do it differently, but I don't dare tell you how best to mama your cubs. You do the best you can and forgive yourself when you don't.
We are a team.
Because we are mom.
Post a Comment