Yesterday was Mother's Day.
I found myself at 9:55am curling my hair as I listened to sermons and worship music. Gleeful cheers of laughter and play sounded down the hallway as my husband played with our boys, making blanket forts together amidst getting ready for our in-home Sunday services. This moment was a welcome reprieve from the LONG week of mothering leading up to it. A sampling of the mishaps and meltdowns of the week include: thrice spilled milk, waking up at 2am to Charlie screaming "I WANT WAFFLES!," my face getting kicked repeatedly during diaper changes, clothing decorated in ketchup and barbecue sauce, burned grilled cheese sandwiches, pen drawings on kitchen walls, and a grand finale: of a lost pair of prescription glasses somewhere along orchard roads (they remain to be found). It was a less than ideal week of shortcomings on my part and tantrums on their part.
Amidst the sermons and hairspray and squeals of sons, I thought over the hard week behind me. I thought over the last three mother's days as I've had my own wee ones to love and look after. I thought of all the mother's days to come and the children that might join us. I thought of my angelic mother. I thought of women I love both alive and passed on...and of their daughters and sons, both alive and passed on. I thought of the blood and sweat and tears I've lost. I thought of the wrinkles and stretch marks and laughter I've gained.
I felt so tired and so joyful all at once.
And then, for a long while, I thought of the one person who understands all these thoughts. I realized that Jesus is the true champion of all mothers, everywhere. Misty eyed, I started to list in my mind the reasons why He is the hero of my Mother's Day, now and always.
I found myself at 9:55am curling my hair as I listened to sermons and worship music. Gleeful cheers of laughter and play sounded down the hallway as my husband played with our boys, making blanket forts together amidst getting ready for our in-home Sunday services. This moment was a welcome reprieve from the LONG week of mothering leading up to it. A sampling of the mishaps and meltdowns of the week include: thrice spilled milk, waking up at 2am to Charlie screaming "I WANT WAFFLES!," my face getting kicked repeatedly during diaper changes, clothing decorated in ketchup and barbecue sauce, burned grilled cheese sandwiches, pen drawings on kitchen walls, and a grand finale: of a lost pair of prescription glasses somewhere along orchard roads (they remain to be found). It was a less than ideal week of shortcomings on my part and tantrums on their part.
Amidst the sermons and hairspray and squeals of sons, I thought over the hard week behind me. I thought over the last three mother's days as I've had my own wee ones to love and look after. I thought of all the mother's days to come and the children that might join us. I thought of my angelic mother. I thought of women I love both alive and passed on...and of their daughters and sons, both alive and passed on. I thought of the blood and sweat and tears I've lost. I thought of the wrinkles and stretch marks and laughter I've gained.
I felt so tired and so joyful all at once.
And then, for a long while, I thought of the one person who understands all these thoughts. I realized that Jesus is the true champion of all mothers, everywhere. Misty eyed, I started to list in my mind the reasons why He is the hero of my Mother's Day, now and always.
- I shed blood, water, sweat and tears to give my sons life. He shed blood, water, sweat, and tears to give them everlasting life.
- My body was blessed to grow bodies for my children. However perfect and precious their little frames are, the reality lurking in my mind is that someday those mortal bodies will fail them, and Charlie and McKay will slip beyond the grave. Christ gave his own body to be crucified, and triumphantly rose from the grave in a glorified, resurrected, perfect body. Because of Him, my sons will follow suit someday, and the body I grew for them will be perfected, glorified, and resurrected. Death will have no sting over my little ones.
- Someday, I will die. Because of Christ, I, too, will be resurrected so that I can hug and kiss and play with my children again.
- I cradle, comfort, hold, help, weep with, and love my children. However completely I give my compassion and comfort, I will never be able to wholly know their struggle and suffering. I am comforted in knowing that Jesus does! He knows what they feel. He knows what they need in order to heal.
- Just like Christ perfects the bodies I grew for my children, I know he can--and will!--consecrate the efforts I so imperfectly offer in teaching and rearing them. My motherhood offering can be made whole in Christ.
- Heaven could not be Heaven to me without my husband and my children. Because of Christ's resurrection and his priesthood, my family relationships will perpetuate beyond the grave, and my family is sealed to be a family for eternity... not just for this life! A gift for which my words are lost in forming explanation.
- Christ retained the scars in his hands, feet and side after his resurrection. His scars are symbols of what he has done to secure spiritual and physical triumph over death for each of us. I do not know if I will retain any of my motherhood scars after this life. However, from this moment on, each time I see those marks, I want to remember how these marks are a symbol of the life I was blessed to give my little ones. I want to remember that His scars represent all He gave to secure life eternal for my children.
- Christ knows the hearts and hardships of women I love, who--for a myriad of reasons--have not had the opportunity to give birth to or adopt children yet. I am filled with sorrow and love for these women, yet also filled with hope knowing that Christ knows their pain perfectly, and that in Him, everything that is unfair about this life will be made up. Likewise, he knows the pain of the motherless, those that have lost their children, those who have abusive or abandoning mothers. I don't know how, but I do know that Christ can--and will!--heal it all.
On Mother's Day and always, I am grateful that I am able to be a mother--because He is my Savior.
Love,
Mikayla
Great thoughts! :)
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