oh, mother's day

It's happy stuff, right?! Yay, mothers! Bearers of life and the most sacrificial beings short of Jesus! Huzzah and cheers!

And I am one. Hurray, me! My list was short, but specific: sleep in, doughnuts and bacon for breakfast, time by myself, flowers and seeds for outside beds, no cooking all day. Essentially, I wanted to pretend, just for one day, that I was NOT a mother.

It worked out okay, but there's no getting around the two small people who just naturally look to ME for answers and food and attention and and and... I came out of our room to Vesper, following Rob around in the kitchen in her walker (watch your ankles!), babbling "MaMaMaMa!" when she usually follows me babbling "DaDaDaDa!" Her face absolutely lit up when she saw me, which always feels nice, but I got to change her nasty diaper, which does not feel nice at all. There's really no escaping motherhood when you're in the thick of it.

I checked a few things online and saw the glory of people honoring their mothers, being honored by their children, and wistfully missing the mothers who have died young or otherwise. Every mother's day, I exult in the blessings I've received, but there are thorns in the roses, even for me. Especially for me?

You see, I love people who are barren. I love people who have conceived and lost many, many tiny wee babies. I love people who yearn for motherhood, quietly, sadly, privately. I love people whose mothers have wounded them terribly and do not merit glowing cards. I love people whose mothers have died FAR too young. I love people whose own children have died FAR too young, who have buried their own adult child (my own mother-in-law). Chances are, you know and love people like this too, but you may not be aware of their whole stories. Life's just more complicated for me now, and being sensitive to the feelings of others while enjoying my own feelings can be a fine line.

Only when you’re broken are you tender enough to wrap yourself around anyone. - Ann Voskamp

Well, I just want to wrap myself around you all and hold you 'til it's better, but some of you are in Denver or St. Louis or Calgary or a different subdivision, so I'll pray you up and sing praises for you instead. I don't have a tidy way to wrap this up and slap a bow on it, so know that I see you. I love you. God sees you better and loves you more, and I pray there is comfort for you deep within that truth.