I broke down yesterday.
Like broke down, broke down. Full stop.
Shoulders racking. Snot. The works.
It was something to behold, really.
I cried in my bathroom for what felt like an eternity of hot tears all because I just wanted to take a shower and blow dry my hair without having to save someone from smashing their fingers in the toilet lid or running interference on the bowl getting cleaned with my favorite (and only) makeup brush.
I thought to myself, “Man, I love my babies, but sometimes I sure get the short end of the stick.”
Just then a bed-headed little boy, along with his trusty blanket, came wobbling in wide-eyed with urgency, bursting at the very seams of his being with pride, and handed me the most exquisite piece of dried rice my eyes have ever had the privilege of feasting upon.
“Mama have!” mouth agape with wonder, seeming to say, “I think the words you’re looking for are, ‘Thank you.’”
I laughed, like really laughed. He joined in even though he didn’t know why. Those gappy, too-big-for-his-mouth teeth on full display.
I stared at him like it was my first time seeing him. My eyes couldn’t get enough of his sweetness. Like ice-cold water for a parched mama soul. I felt panic to memorize the moment because I knew with a bittersweet knowing it would be over all too soon.
Oh, the way the Lord loves on me by way of my babies – it’s deep and it’s wide and it is a balm that fills all my wounds. And, let me tell you, I have plenty of wounds. My feeling-sorry-for-myself-fest dissipated as the miracle that had just occurred came into focus while sitting there on the bathroom floor with my boy.
The Creator of the universe, the Star Breather, the One who the oceans answer to, had just stepped into a really hard moment and ministered to me through a piece of dusty instant rice that my 19-month-old had found under the couch.
So, mama, wherever you are reading this from, maybe from your own bathroom floor, Jesus loves you so much and He cares so deeply about your joy. I don’t know about you, but I am getting to know a side of Him I didn’t know pre-motherhood. Just when I thought communion and relationship with Him couldn’t possibly be any sweeter, He gifted me a new glimpse of Him.
Throughout Scripture, there is a pattern of Jesus meeting women right where they are.
He intercepted the woman at the well.
He met Mary and Martha at Lazarus’ tomb.
He interrupted the stoning of the adulterous woman.
And He saw fit that I wouldn’t be the exception.
Neither will you.
Motherhood is our ministry. Your dining room table is the pulpit he has given you. The rocking chair in your baby’s nursery is the holy ground where you will see miracles take place. Your car chocked full, carrying the most precious cargo is where your babies will first encounter Jesus.
Press into the newness. Lean into Jesus. His burden is light.
You’ve got this, Mama.
Now, to my little pity party crasher, my toilet bowl cleaner extraordinaire, my immeasurably more: you will never see this, but oh, MAN, you are not the short stick. You are the very BEST end of the stick.
