My Motherhood
I was Facebooking earlier and came across someone’s posts about a spiritual gifts test they took at church. This left me to wonder exactly what my results in said test may be. I googled one. Took it. But as my entire household is asleep, it leads me to expand upon my vague results.
Do you know what my spiritual gift is? At least one of them? One not defined by a test? Motherhood. Not “mothering” or “parenting”, mind you, especially those that have witnessed such in public.
Separate yourself, for a moment, from the idea that a spiritual gift is something that you are almost immediately and innately good at.
I am not an awesome mother, especially by society’s standards, considering all that is required of me to be a “good mother” in today’s world. BUT! One of the greatest and most poignant gifts God ever gave me is Motherhood.
It is where I am strong and fierce and unwavering. It is where I have come to know God and His Son more than I EVER would have now that I am traveling this road. (This is personal. I know that is not EVERYONE’s road to travel. And there is no judgement or unkindness there.)
It is a place where I am more resolute and strong than any other place. In effect, to my 3 gorgeous if not often unruly kids:
You want my body? Take it!
Take my youth, my supple skin, the flatness of my belly, any vigor or physical prowess I had. Take any image of myself or hope I had of improving it. Take it. If it will enable me to hold you in your sleep while you are tiny and brand new; to let you know in the best way that you can comprehend that you are loved and safe, that you are an unmistakable and powerful gift from God, take it. Let me hold you close to my imperfect self; against my flawed but warm and loving skin. Take all of it.
Take my rest. Wake me in the middle of the night, when it is difficult to comprehend exactly what time it is; when my frame of reference is GONE. Wake me over and over. Give me bags under my eyes and a blurred understanding of today; give me a desperate physical need for caffeine and a disheveled appearance. Make me wear a sweat shirt in 85 degrees because I can’t bear the thought of a shower and a bra; make me throw my hair in a greasy ponytail. Go ahead and take it. It WILL give you a better understanding of my love for you, a small and human reflection, and a shining distant star in comparison to the sun of God’s love for you and will bolster you as you grow. Because, these are the indisputable facts: you are loved. You were made in His image and He, the creator of the distant galaxies, knows how many hairs are on your head. You are important to God and you have a job to do on this earth. I will bolster you, grow you, and strengthen you however I can. We will find your strengths and we will serve together.
Take my patience. Experiment with your will, with your temper. Test your self-control. Test your limits and try the black and white scriptural truth against your grey and growing mind. Take it. Test my dedication to you. See how I will NOT give up on you because God won’t either. I will dance a dance of stubbornness and guidance you have never seen. I will change. I will alter my guidelines, I will get stricter and I will loosen up but I will not move my eyes from YOU and YOU will not lose focus of HIM.
Take my time. Take what I used to use for pedicures and day trips and consume it. Eat that up. Look into my eyes and make me put down what I’m doing. Ask me about the stars, about aliens and worlds far beyond our galaxy. Ask me how engines work and ask me about race cars and dance class. Keep asking. Bounce it all off of me. I’ll keep answering, though in the years to come we might need a conference call. You and the fact that God made you and sent you to me are far more important than the dishes or my iPhone. Keep asking. Although I might seem frustrated at the time, keep asking.
Take my future. Whatever plans or dreams or thoughts I had about my future driven by my ambition pale in comparison to the gift and the “job” that you are. You are the destination and the vehicle and they are the asphalt we left behind in a blur of emotion and true and solid knowledge of what is right and pure.
Whatever I was, whoever I thought I’d be. Wherever I thought I’d go and however I thought I’d get there. Take it.
God has this in his perfect and amazingly capable hands.
So, while I will desperately try to make you understand, as is applicable in your life from here on out, that we mustn’t lean on my grandmother’s table and rock in the chairs she gave me or draw with permanent markers your “art” all over our walls, you are important. You are the greatest charge to date God has given me and you outweigh all the other “stuff”. Always. As you grow, as you learn and as you become His Servant.
I beg you to, even though you are proud and absurdly stubborn as both me and your father, take it. Take that Grace when you least deserve it and serve and honor Him. He loves you and so do I. I will give you Grace in the moments and years to come, but you will always have my love. It is undying and a small piece of what God has to offer you. Eat it up. Please.
