So, I have a confession. I thought this post was for you. I knew God
laid it on my heart and I bathed it in prayer. Yet, it did not flow eloquently
or effortlessly. I struggled with it. It consumed me. I wrote and I revised and
I wrote and I revised. My heart had so much to say, but my fingers could not
articulate the thoughts. So I continued to ponder this message and pray to God
for its content. That is when He revealed the problem. I had not yet grasped
the lesson that I was trying to convey, therefore, how could I be the messenger?
It was going to take more than writing it out; it was going to take living it
out. So, like Jacob, I have been wrestling with my failures and weaknesses. And
similarly, like Jacob, I may forever walk with a limp, but I will overcome.
(Genesis 32:22-32) Thankfully, I may not be where I want to be, but I am no
longer where I was!
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I received a text from a friend of mine the other day. She had
been under a lot of stress in her roles as nurse, mom, wife, and student. On
this particular day after having cleaned, studied, volunteered in the
classroom, played with her kids, and prepared meals, she found herself losing
her temper with her son. He had taken
the laundry baskets full of freshly folded clothes and dumped them on her living
room floor. She found him swimming, dancing and jumping through them. On a
different day she may have corrected him with kindness, but on this particular
day she scolded him in anger. After sending him to his room, she sat on her
couch and cried. In her text to me later that evening she referred to herself
as “mother of the year”, but instead of wearing that title as a badge of honor
upon her chest, she wore it as a pendant of shame around her neck. I have heard
countless women brand themselves in this manner and truthfully I have sarcastically
seared myself with the same scorching iron, but for some reason, it touched a
nerve with me this time. I thought about that text for days, pondering its
meaning and my own unsettled reaction. What I realized is that, regardless of
the playful tone, this comment was another attempt to belittle our worth and
undermine our efforts. No matter how much we accomplish, no matter how many
things we get right, we allow our failures, missteps and oversights to
completely supersede our successes. And to persecute ourselves further, we
compare ourselves to others in ways we could never match. With the live feed of
everyone’s achievements pouring in from places such as Facebook and Twitter, we
are receiving regular reminders of our deficiencies. As children we felt the
sting of other people’s pebbles, but as adults we seem to prefer to inflict our
own scars. The truth is, we weigh ourselves with inaccurate measures and we
allow these results to influence our view of who we are. In a world that esteems individuality, we
still contend for sameness. But we are not
the same; we are fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalm 139:14) In the original
Hebrew text, the word 'wonderfully'
means: unique, set apart, uniquely marvelous. We should appreciate our
differences and acknowledge our individuality.
Therefore, it is time to permit our triumphs to determine
our value and allow each other’s accomplishments to motivate us. We are surrounded
by a cloud of witnesses. (Hebrews 12:1) I
know because I have been personally blessed by these amazing mothers in my
life. Their examples have influenced me, inspired me and bettered me.
So, this is to them and this is to you (and apparently this
is to me), The Mothers of the Year:
I do not admire you because you are perfect. I admire you
because in your imperfection, you have stayed, you have strived, you have
persevered, and you have grown.
You have lain on the floor of your son’s bedroom slaying dragons
and diverting boogeymen into the wee hours of the night. You have held back
your daughter’s hair and cleaned buckets. You have overcome frigid temperatures
to make snow forts and sledding ramps. You have worked two jobs when you ached
to be home and you have given up your own dreams of success for a full-time
position as a domestic engineer. You have prepared hundreds of cookies for fundraisers
and school parties. You have fulfilled birthday fantasies equipped solely with
icing and fondant. You have raced from soccer games to dance rehearsals to play
practices in order to foster your child’s gifts and interests. You have fought
for your child’s label, but have not allowed that label to become their
identity or to determine their capacity.
You have spent days in doctor’s offices and hospital rooms. You have
read the same books over and over again until their covers tore and their lyrics
looped continuously through your mind. You have homeschooled and seen the light
ignite from within their eyes. You have cancelled dinners and rejected invitations
in favor of bedtime routines and bible stories. You have been an audience of
one to each evening’s flute performance and violin demonstration. You have
exhibited patience when you were drowning in demands and distributed grace when
you were disappointed. You discussed strategies on Minecraft and overcame King
Koopa in Super Mario Land. You bandaged external wounds and embraced internal
ones. You performed French manicures, paraffin pedicures and intricate updos in
preparation for school dances and recitals. You hosted sleepovers that were
absent of sleep and still greeted your guests with chocolate chip pancakes for
breakfast. You praised your child’s accomplishments and encouraged your child
in the midst of failures. You allowed your kid to frolic in mud puddles and
splash in the rain, focusing on the laughter and not the disarray. You documented
their lives with videos and scrapbooks in your efforts to freeze time. You held
your child when they would not let you go, and let them go in faith when they
would no longer hold on. You coached softball and mighty mites with little
experience and after working full days. You have struggled with a diagnosis but
not once allowed your child to recognize your pain. You built Lego models,
Lincoln log houses, Geo-Trax communities, and Hot Wheel roadways, and then
played within these imaginary worlds until the next adventure beckoned. You
have gone from hero to villain in the eyes of your child, and remained
unwavering in your affection and persistent in your availability. You have rented
prom attire, toured colleges, and shopped for bridal gowns while recalling the
precious face of your newborn and inhaling their sweet scent. You have labored,
adopted, fostered and mentored, and come to understand the unconditional bond
of motherhood.
You are patient. You are kind. You are honoring. You are
selfless. You are forgiving.
You protect. You trust. You hope. You persevere. You never fail.
You protect. You trust. You hope. You persevere. You never fail.
You are a mom. You are LOVE! (1 Corinthians 13:4-8)
So I am now a follower! Your writing is beautiful and your soulful words have induced a humbling reflection on my own reactions to my life... mom, wife, teacher, just good old me.... "In the original Hebrew text, the word 'wonderfully' means: unique, set apart, uniquely marvelous. We should appreciate our differences and acknowledge our individuality." - I am my own super mom, my own super wife, my own me.... I need to appreciate that. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteKara, you are a super mom, a super wife, a super friend and a super you!!! I am blessed to call you my friend. I do not know if you realized if, but the first line of sleeping on the floor was about you, you shared that at the gym the week your ladies were sick! You are a mom who impresses me and challenges me. Thank you!!! xoxo
ReplyDeleteNo wonder we are tired when we go to bed at night!
ReplyDeleteMaria auguri per questo premio perché lo meriti insieme a quel grande uomo che è tuo marito. Io lo chiamerei il premio della vita. Vai sempre con DIO e con quella stupenda famiglia che hai. Pino e Rosalba
ReplyDelete