courtesy: Jill Greenberg
Today would be classified as a "Hard Mommy Day". One of my first, and most assuredly not one of my last. VULNERABILITY WARNING: I'm sitting here crying over my open Bible and a glass of white wine. I am tired. So. tired. I even managed to nap today...but these dark circles under my eyes won't lie.
Daddy was gone, to begin with(can YOU guess that reference?). That always complicates my day when there are errands involved. What could have been a highly productive day was completely sabotaged by my not-so-productive child (how dare she?!). I barely managed to make my Saturday morning coffee study(mind you, we were a whopping thirty minutes late). And Rosebud--though happy and typically quite joyful--couldn't survive very long past breakfast. It was naptime. She was tired and wanted to curl up in her warm, comfortable crib. But Mommy wanted to visit, and so we stayed, all the while rocking and swaying with a fuzzy blanket. Eventually she fell asleep and the momentary quiet came. I was thankful. I managed to make it through the first portion of my errands unscathed, but then the child stirred and my outing was thwarted. My child is phenomenally patient, though, and entertained herself well with her surroundings. But when her patience wore thin, she informed me--quite loudly, I might add. And soon, I was in the checkout line hastily rummaging through my items. We made it home and naptime ensued. Once again, my quiet came. I'm learning to lean into those moments because they're so rare.
Later, we strolled to the mall to meet up with a friend. Seems innocent enough, right? Rosebud was clean, full and happy. There were a few whiney moments spattered into our outing, but overall, she was carefree...until J. Crew. I'll have you know that store is not stroller conducive. We got stuck several times, and I received some choice looks for even attempting to stroller shop in the store. But who says Mommy can't be fashionable? Oh, right. J. Crew. Because when you become a mom your sense of fashion flies out the window with your brain( okay, maybe I DO prefer yoga pants and a tank top, but STILL). I don't think it's intentional, because I noticed another stroller. I silently acknowledged my comrade and congratulated him for persevering through the tiny crevice that is that store. I did everything in my power to ensure the babe was content, but nothing worked. I tried to placate her with toys, but she got bored. When we began strolling around(unsuccessfully), the waterworks started.
Cue: Meltdown #1
It was deafening. And--had I not been used to the wails--I might have been embarrassed. My friend's enduring patience is a testament to who she is. When Rosebud cried incessantly in the men's section, she entertained her. When I apologized for having such a verbal, alert child, she assured me that Rosebud's motor skills are top-knotch. I'm forever grateful for friends like that.
But our efforts were wasted. The babe won. And amazingly, I felt overwhelmed with compassion on my little bean. She can't help that she's so tiny and dependent. It's not her fault she didn't come into the world as an adult. And besides, I concluded on the way home, it's nice to be needed. Our stroll back to the house was again peaceful. I laughed at the thought that 5 minutes prior, my kid was screaming. But she needs structure. She needs her bed. I was thankful for the means to provide just that.
When she slept, so did I. We didn't wake up until our tummies reminded us to eat. Since it had been a hard afternoon, I rewarded us with a trip to our favorite place: Trader Joe's. We strolled across the street to purchase dinner[and Sunday lunch]. We were both pleasantly bundled and enjoying the crisp air...and then we reached the store.
Cue: meltdown #2
We made it about halfway through my small list, when Rosebud again started to cry. Thankfully, the TJs people are about as non-judgmental as you can get, so I wasn't really shaken. But the exhaustion hit. And, I too, wanted to join my child. Almost out of nowhere, a woman approached me. She complimented my daughter and began speaking to her. Instant calm(on both fronts). Rosebud marveled at this woman. So did I. She was so kind. We talked for some time,
You're a good mommy. She's going to be better because you're with her. Don't forget that. You rest when she does. You have the rest of your life to do housework. Just love her. You're doing a great job.
I call her my Christmas Angel. She must have seen the exhaustion on my face. She must have remembered feeling that way herself. Oh, what a blessing she'll never know she was.
When we returned home, I felt thankful. I quickly fed my daughter and laid her down, then began my dinner. A few minutes into the evolution, I smelled plastic--melted plastic. I had accidentally turned on the wrong stove eye, and some of my baby's bottles were burning. By the time I got to the wreckage, they looked about as hopeful as Frosty on the 4th of July. It was pathetic.
Cue: meltdown #3
I quickly aerated the house; opening doors and windows all over. The smell left quickly. The baby was fine. But...what a mess. Oh, what a mess. I tearfully scraped the bottom of our gumbo pot, thankful it wasn't ruined.
As I write this now, shivering in my detoxed home, I can't help but remember Mary.
I am the Lord's servant.
She couldn't have known about meltdowns, right? Or about the complexities of pregnancy and delivery? And the intensity of the situation just must not have bothered her, you know?
No. She was fully aware of the context. And she had probably spent time with babies. But she still gratefully accepted her role.
I love Mary. I've always thought she was so honest. She wasn't afraid to ask Gabriel how things would play out. But when he responded with, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you..."(Luke 2:35) she questioned no further, but instead chose to trust.
I am the Lord's servant.
She said "yes" to this inconceivable, scandalous miracle. She said "yes" to the way her 14-year old body would soon change. She said "yes" to the grubby, joyful, chaotic role of motherhood; to serving unselfishly and daily dying to herself with (seemingly) little return for your labor.
She did it for her King.
Today--and everyday-- I am going to strive to be like Mary. Not because she's awesome, but because God is. He is worthy of my life---my service, my love, and my wholehearted devotion--even when my current role feels discouraging sometimes.
I am thankful for:
My servant-hearted husband( if he didn't love and serve us so well, days like this wouldn't feel so overwhelming without him). My understanding mall buddy. Naps. Compliant, smiling Trader Joe's shoppers. My Christmas Angel. A sense of smell(to catch those bottles!). My warm bed. Tonight's yummy dinner. My patient, active, joyful daughter. My opportunity to be a wife and mother.
But, most of all, I am thankful for Christ.
I am the Lord's servant whatever the day, whatever the role.
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