on motherhood.
photo by Brittany Sturdivant
First, some disclaimers:
I realize that a post on motherhood from someone who has been in the parenting arena for less than a decade is kind of like asking my 2 year old to recite the periodic table. I have a lot to learn from the older and wiser moms out there. But I also think there is value in hearing from a mom in the trenches of the little years. I’m not viewing these days through rose-colored glasses (they are most definitely smeared with tiny fingerprints, if anything) or relying on hindsight. I am just putting one foot in front of the other, trying to do the “next right thing” (as Elisabeth Elliot would say) and sharing what the Lord is teaching me. I pray it is an encouragement for those of you who can relate.
And to those of you who desire to be moms but have not entered that life stage, I am lifting you up in prayer this Mother’s Day weekend. There is nothing quite like that unique longing. I want you to know that God has not forgotten about you. And His plan is far better than we can ever imagine. You may want to skip this read if you are in those tender days of waiting.
I’m coming up on 6 years of being a mom, which somehow feels both entirely too quick and slow at the same time. In one sense, it’s hard to remember life before motherhood; I feel removed from the longing and waiting that led up to this journey of being called mommy by these 3 precious humans the Lord has entrusted to me. But then there are days when it feels like I merely blinked and our oldest is no longer a baby, cradled in the nook of my arm and looking up at me with her big blue eyes in that simple way that babies do. Instead, she’s dancing around the kitchen and learning to read.
When I look back on those tender days of being a brand new mom, I think, “Oh man, I had no idea what was coming.” (I’m sure I’ll look back on these days of wrangling small children and say the same.) At this point in motherhood, I’ve seen things. I’ve smelled things. I’ve felt more excruciating pain than I thought the human body would be capable of. And I would experience it all over again for the sake of my children.
Life these days is an everyday, imperfect journey of holding fast to the things I know to be true and letting go of everything else—all while trying to wrestle a stubborn toddler into a car seat and answering a lot of “but why?” questions. The irony of my similar stubbornness and why prayers to the Heavenly Father does not escape me.
Motherhood, like so many seasons of life, is downright sanctifying. But the kicker is that the sanctification doesn’t come through quiet prayer and contemplation while calm worship music plays in the background. It comes in the middle of meltdowns and messy floors and teaching your kids simple truths from Scripture that you actually needed to learn again for yourself. The sanctifying work of motherhood comes in the form of folding yet another pile of laundry and cooking another meal that no one will eat and choosing not to yell when all chaos breaks loose (or asking forgiveness when you lose the battle for patience and scream, “STOP LICKING THE SOFA!!!” while having a crazed look in your eye… hypothetically speaking.) The sanctifying comes in the midst of the sleeplessness and sicknesses and the singing of nursery rhymes.
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Here's the thing, though: we might do all of the sacrificial things in motherhood but not have the right heart posture. Maybe you cook homemade meals every day of the week while having inner Scrooge-like dialogue. Maybe you change the diapers while thinking of all the other worthwhile things you could be doing with your college degree. You might even allow your thoughts to spiral into a “woe is me” narrative while cleaning the house yet again. I don’t know what the tendency is for you, but I’ll confess that I have done all of the above more than once.
So I come from a place of “I’ve been there too” when I say: our heart postures matter to God. If we aren’t raising our children with joy and gratitude, we are a little like my Honda after I go through the car wash but skip the vacuum station. The outside is clean and sparkling! But the inside is filled with cracker crumbs, stray hair clips, and a small bomb of spare clothes. White-washed tombs, I tell you.
Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but within are full of dead people's bones and all uncleanness. So you also outwardly appear righteous to others, but within you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness.
-Matthew 23:27-28
We mustn’t neglect the state of our hearts in the hustle to be a “good mom.” This doesn’t mean that our homes are going to play out like a Mr. Rogers episode every day or we have to sing Kumbaya when everyone in the house is crying at the same time. But let’s look at the big picture: if our hearts and lives aren’t transforming to look more and more like Jesus, we need to evaluate where we are fixing our gazes.
Is it on performance or our kids’ behaviors? Are we taking pride in our parenting decisions or how “put together” we appear to be? An orderly house and a beautiful appearance aren’t bad-- in and of themselves-- but if superficial matters are our main goals, then we are keeping company with the Pharisees.
On the other hand, if we are we looking to Jesus for provision, sustenance, and direction in our families while thanking Him for our full hands? We are on the right track with the narrow path. If we are pausing to pray and asking forgiveness when we fall short and discipling our kids as we go about the days, we are being faithful in the role God has given us. This often involves doing what is right over what is easy and pointing our children toward the Ultimate Hope, Healer, Father, and Friend.
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You may have noticed that many of the early motherhood days are spent on your knees. Changing the diapers on the floor. Kissing the boo-boos and applying the brightly colored band-aids. Kneeling beside the bathtub to wash hair and scrub hands. Putting the socks and shoes on the tiny feet, then putting them on again and again.
These acts of repetitive kneeling in motherhood—I don’t think they are by accident. Right out of the gate, the Lord is inviting us into humility and sacrifice in a million little ways. He provides countless opportunities to repent of our pride and selfishness and then offers to replace our sinful heart postures with fruits of His Spirit.
As we kneel to serve and scrub and pray, we must keep submitting our wills to His—in patient obedience and love. And may the kneeling serve as a physical reminder of the Savior who became Servant for us, who stretched out His perfect nail-pierced hands and defeated death so we may live with eternity in mind.
Because the truths we teach and prayers we pray and hymns we sing are not only seeds being planted into our kids’ hearts, they are sparks of light sent out into the darkness. And by the grace of God, we get a front row seat to watch the stories He is writing for our children unfold.
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There’s one more verse I want to leave us with and it makes me teary almost every time I think of it:
He will tend his flock like a shepherd;
he will gather the lambs in his arms;
he will carry them in his bosom,
and gently lead those that are with young.-Isaiah 40:11
The Lord knows the hormonal, physical, and emotional rollercoaster of a journey those of us with small (or grown) children are currently experiencing. And this is the picture He gives us: the Good Shepherd not only watches over our children, but He also gently leads us. He watches over and cares for us too as we care for our children. While we seek to protect our kids, He is protecting us.
May we never forget that our Heavenly Father wants us to turn to Him, to meet us smackdab in the middle of our weaknesses and overwhelm and anxieties. While we’re wiping the tears and the counters and (especially) while we’re potty-training the toddler. And like the Good Shepherd that He is, the Lord of the Universe beckons us to lay it all at His feet and trust Him in the midst of these busy and hard and beautiful days.