Some of the highlights of my day were seeing my Mama friends loved on. From morning coffee deliveries to handmade cards, facebook post accolades or on our evening walk the sight of an early teen out in the driveway diligently washing his Mama's car... I loved it all. It's not flowers, breakfasts, gifts, or even homemade crafts we moms want, just the message that we are loved and appreciated, and we'll take it in any form.
Last night after my boys were tucked into bed and I was getting started on the plans I had for my evening, I heard, "Mama... Mama, I have a dream." (This, because the first time I asked Gabe if he had a nightmare, I said, 'Did you have a dream?' And he laughed, because his association with that phrase is from the song in the movie "Tangled," which he then started singing...) Awake from a nightmare 10 minutes after lights out? No way. "Mama, I scared." Also no chance this was the case, but a good effort at getting "Mama" into that room; a bait I was obliged to take. My extroverted, clown of a three year old beckoned me over to his bed, asked me to kiss his cheeks, and then took my hand and began stroking his head the way I sometimes do. I melted, and as I stroked his head and watched those precious eyelids get heavy, I thanked Jesus for a special opportunity to drink in all that being "Mama" really is. Being wanted, called on, appreciated. What a gift.
This morning the sweet twins that woke me up as they crawled in bed with us later kicked me in the eye, fought in the bath tub, and displayed my least-favorite behaviors during lunch. But I know them. I get them. I have seen them conquer physical delays, learn amazing new things, I have seen their souls swell with understanding and compassion, and when they need soothing or help they call for me. They are mine. Independent of their recognition of what I do for them (and independent of my husband's affirmation of these things), the joy that is mine is knowing our Creator entrusted them to me. When my heart explodes at hearing them give unprompted "thank-yous," or my eyes get all teary from watching their handsome little faces when they don't know I'm looking, I share those moments with Jesus. That's as deep and true as it gets. While I appreciate a day to remind us to step back and think about it, no one else has to affirm it or convince me: being a mom is a joy.
Last night after my boys were tucked into bed and I was getting started on the plans I had for my evening, I heard, "Mama... Mama, I have a dream." (This, because the first time I asked Gabe if he had a nightmare, I said, 'Did you have a dream?' And he laughed, because his association with that phrase is from the song in the movie "Tangled," which he then started singing...) Awake from a nightmare 10 minutes after lights out? No way. "Mama, I scared." Also no chance this was the case, but a good effort at getting "Mama" into that room; a bait I was obliged to take. My extroverted, clown of a three year old beckoned me over to his bed, asked me to kiss his cheeks, and then took my hand and began stroking his head the way I sometimes do. I melted, and as I stroked his head and watched those precious eyelids get heavy, I thanked Jesus for a special opportunity to drink in all that being "Mama" really is. Being wanted, called on, appreciated. What a gift.
This morning the sweet twins that woke me up as they crawled in bed with us later kicked me in the eye, fought in the bath tub, and displayed my least-favorite behaviors during lunch. But I know them. I get them. I have seen them conquer physical delays, learn amazing new things, I have seen their souls swell with understanding and compassion, and when they need soothing or help they call for me. They are mine. Independent of their recognition of what I do for them (and independent of my husband's affirmation of these things), the joy that is mine is knowing our Creator entrusted them to me. When my heart explodes at hearing them give unprompted "thank-yous," or my eyes get all teary from watching their handsome little faces when they don't know I'm looking, I share those moments with Jesus. That's as deep and true as it gets. While I appreciate a day to remind us to step back and think about it, no one else has to affirm it or convince me: being a mom is a joy.
