Confession: There are many days when I feel I could cheerfully dispense with the trappings of motherhood.
Not motherhood itself, mind you; just the trappings that come with it.
“Wear this, Mommy.”
Do I have to?
I’ve never been a natural loving-every-blessed-minute kind of mother, beaming while cooking early breakfast. I love my kids like *crazy* but the wow moments of I-can’t-believe-I-get-to-mother-this-gorgeous-amazing-child are too few and far between to qualify as payback for the I-can’t-believe-I-got-myself-into-this-situation ones.
Sometimes I would love never to hear another riddle or knock-knock joke as long as I live. What I want to know is this: How did the worst jokes of a tiny rural community in northern Minnesota thirty years ago transmit themselves into the mouths of my kids in western Pennsylvania, 2014?
I do enjoy a good challenge, but I feel I’ve sort of maxed out on How many paper boats can we craft in one church service?
I could probably live quite happily without hearing Georgie Porgie Pudding and Pie sung to the tune of Silent Night. (Regan’s concoction.) (It really works.)
And I could most definitely do without dispensing inanities such as “Yes, picking up is not always fun, but we must do it anyway.”
“Please don’t put your fork in my face.”
“And if you fall in the toilet doin that I’m not fishing you out.”
I have found that a dry sense of the ridiculous has preserved my sanity more effectively than any amount of romantic exuberance.
Do you know what I like best about mothering?
It’s such a hotspot for sanctification.
Don’t you just love that God made babies so stinkin CUTE? I don’t know one lady who doesn’t get a quiver of pure joy at the sight and scent of a newborn. It’s a little trick built into the core of the universe, just like God making men so big and brawny. Who in her right mind would ask to enter into a permanent relationship of laying down her life every day for another person? But that’s what marriage is, and mothering too. By the time we realize exactly what we’ve committed to it’s too late—and we are sure in for it.
So gently He leads us, through the scent of a baby. Lay down your life, sweet daughter. Lay down your independence, your selfishness, your agenda. Lay down your time, your aspirations, your identity. Lay it down.
There in the laying down, there in the trappings, He changes us.
Jesus, I bless your name.