Skip to main content

Motherhood Ain't for Sissies - The Glorious Table



Someday I’ll be a white-haired lady talking with friends or gazing out a window alone with my thoughts. My conversation and thoughts are sure to center around moments when my life was busy with little people who called me Mom. Among the everyday moments, other memories will float to the surface and demand my attention above the rest. The highlights will be the clutch moments, the pivotal points in my children’s lives when a decision was made or a new ounce of courage was found. The moments I got to watch them become.

Those clutch moments are the same desires I dreamt about when my babies were growing inside me. My prayers were full of desire to be there when my kids needed me most. I was desperate to offer support and put the wind in their sails. The same moments I longed for at the beginning will be the exact ones sustaining me at the end.


What I didn’t see coming were the tears. My early dreams and the memories real life has given me bear many similarities; what they don’t share are all those tears. My dreams didn’t consider the ripping required for the butterflies to emerge from their cocoons. They didn’t compute the necessary tearing of muscles to make them grow strong.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

What You Need, When You Need It - The Glorious Table

We ate steak at the fanciest place in town, me and my sister, our husbands, and our parents. Around the table, we joined Mom’s reminiscing. We retold our favorite stories of family vacations and holidays. We revealed some silly childhood secrets. And we listened to Mom’s stories from fifty years she and Dad spent together. One of our favorite stories is of the birthday Mom expected a diamond ring but went home from their swanky dinner with a shiny new set of hot rollers. Whenever Mom tells that story, instead of making fun of Dad for his slow-moving ways, she praises his serious, methodical decision making. She points to it as proof of his dependability. My mom told stories. I told stories. My sister told stories. Even our husbands had memories to share. We retold some of the stories Dad put on paper in his journal for us. The thing we missed most was Dad’s voice in the storytelling. Rather than telling the stories himself, he locked eyes on the teller and responded, “By golly, that ha

The Fight for Control - Day 3

Preschoolers' bodies contain a power that defies the laws of physics.  Moms of preschoolers know there is definitely something metaphysical going on in their homes.  It's also clear to Moms like me that every now and then, a special child comes along with whom the force is especially strong. I had a cute little 3-year-old boy who often left me slack-jawed and feeling outflanked.  His will was strong and it was aided and abetted by a deft use of words and logic.  Maybe you've encountered a kid like him.....you can recognize them by the iron glint in their eyes and the furrowed brows of their Mommas.  Maybe you've got one living under your own roof. Even though it felt like Trevor and I jockeyed for position forever...but it was really just a chunk of Trev's 3rd year.  Let me tell you, it was one INTENSE year, but it wasn't eternal.  Our toughest head-to-heads seemed to always happen on evenings Scott was at a late meeting and I was flying solo.  They start

Project Hopeful Guest Post #2

I'm writing for Project Hopeful again today.  We've been very busy in Ethiopia meeting some incredible people!  Please join us! Enter your email address: Delivered by FeedBurner