Overworked and every now and again taken for granted...unappreciated...overlooked...growing older ungracefully...a means to have food on the table, clean clothes in the closet, and a car ride to every practice and fun activity under the sun...the cheerleader that is rarely cheered for and the team player that isn't always applauded.
In the last few days I have been at my lowest with these.
Mom, get me here at this time...Mom, I need this washed by in the morning...We are having this for dinner?!?...Hey, I got another mark today...Can I go here...Can I do this...I forgot about this one assignment; it's due tomorrow...But, mom...Gymnastics, football, and cheer; all in one night.
I am about to tackle the insurmountable pile of laundry that is about spill out of the windows and doors of our house, and then the phone rings. "Mom, I forgot my lunch." When I return there is water all in the bathroom floor from a leaky shower. Dinner needs to be done before the end of school because it will be peddle to the metal the second Mr. Smith calls "The Thomas kids" over the cafeteria loud speaker. They come running to the Ford Explorer that then burns rubber out of the school parking lot. Dear Lord, please save me from the SRO or Officer House for another day.
Mommas, can I get an "amen"!? My hand is extended far into the air for all those virtual high fives coming my way. Please tell me I am not alone. As I climb up to the top of that mountain of laundry, I pray that I find myself surrounded by a band of sisters, all of us wanting the same thing...just to catch a break.
This past week and weekend I vowed it would end. I saw Michael and Myron off on a trip to cheer on their respective teams in "The Swamp". (#VFL) My Friday night was full of gymnastics and then coming home with pizza in hand, ready to gather all the necessities for a Saturday morning cross country meet. I worked hard to insure that when Saturday morning came, it would be a slow paced easy morning for a leisurely drive just twenty-five minutes away in Milton. I'd watch the kids run a race and then make my way back to the house to watch my beloved Volunteers take on the Gators, more than likely taking a Xanax during the fourth quarter. (That's humor, folks...just kidding.)
The Saturday morning alarm rang out in the master bedroom and I rolled out to wake the yawning little girls and call down the stairs to my thirteen year old sleeping giant. Toothbrushes found their way to three sets of teeth. Hair was brushed. And thank the Father above that three pairs of arm pits were lathered up with deodorant.
"Grab a granola bar and a banana. Don't forget a bottle of water."
"Jackson, do you have your socks? Shoes?"
"Sadie, do you have a few things packed to keep you occupied?"
"Okay, we are set...go jump in the car."
I smiled as my Nancy Caroline headed out the door with her bag on her shoulder, already packed from the night before for a morning of running in the sun on this Sepetember Saturday. She is the most organized eleven year old I have ever known. She puts me to shame in her administration skills. If my head wasn't attached to my body...she would carry it around for me and know exactly where it was at all times.
We stopped at the local Co-Op and got the musts for runners...water, Gatorade, and MTSU chocolate milk. After all those drinks were iced down, we headed down Auburntown Road, signing along to the radio. I decided to slow ourselves down and enjoy the beauty of the Tennessee hills. The sun was bright and the sky was clear, void of any clouds. As I leisurely took the curves, I could breathe easy and my crazy mom-make-everyone's-life-happen-gotta-have-it-all-together anxiety was a distant memory.
Turns out this meet was in the middle of no where on a farm. We turned into the drive, which was the only way in or out of the massive parking set up, and I told my two middle schoolers to grab their belongings and shoes and get ready to jump out.
From right behind me I heard the tiniest gasp escape NC.
"Mom, I forgot my shoes on the carport. What am I going to do?"
For a brief moment there were the suggestions thrown around from her brother and sister. Maybe she shouldn't run today...she could borrow someone else's shoes...wearing boys' shoes was immediately taken off the table.
I pulled to a stop close to another Cannon County mom and rolled the window down. She graciously agreed to walk these two to the team tent. I gave the two middle school runners instructions to stay close to their team and told Sadie to sit tight. With a bit of exasperation in my heart, I inched my way back out the crowded drive and hit the road back to Woodbury.
My foot was a little heavier this time. I had to be back to see the race and to make sure the feet of NC were clad with the familiarity of her Nike running shoes. I took the curves with speed and ease, thanks to my rural middle Tennessee upbringing. Sadie and I sat in silence and my mind was filled with the question any tired mom I am sure has when they are overworked and overlooked.
"Why me?"
I whispered it almost as a prayer. And in an instance the Father began to send the answer bubbling over in my heart.
"Because I chose you. You are her mother. Never take for granted that she is still a child. And just like you she is imperfect. She is capable of forgetting things. This organized, got-her-junk-together child...she doesn't always have it together; she isn't suppose to. Be thankful she doesn't have it all together, all the time, because this allows her to understand my grace. Teach her that. You are her mother. I made you her mother on purpose."
The exasperation left my heart in an instance. The weight of motherhood and never ending responsibility was miraculously easy to bear.
If given the choice, I would never want anyone else to drive an extra hour to make sure Nancy Caroline had a pair of shoes to run a race. I am thankful and blessed to be her safety net, her answer to a problem, her go-to. That's my role. Nancy Caroline's Mom...that's my title; in fact, it's one of the three titles I carry. And I am more than honored that God chose me to mother the three kids.
Sometimes us moms get lost in the mundane and lose sight of the real job God granted us with. If we want the world and the Church to look a bit different...maybe a lot different...I think God gave us that responsibility and opportunity to make that difference when he made us mothers. No one else is better equipped to teach future generations how to love relentlessly, serve unselfishly, and care for folks unconditionally. He is working on our hearts, ladies. He is molding us more and more in His image so the littles that we are raising can seek justice for the weak. So they can be better husbands and wives. So they can learn to stand with confidence and speak out when wrong is being easily accepted by others around them. He has made us their advocates and caregivers, so they can survive, grow, and be given the opportunities that maybe we weren't even granted when were we their ages.
So my fellow mommas, let's get to work with happiness and holiness in our hearts, showing our children the love that God intended us to show them. Let's answer questions and give explanations with understanding and patience. Let's tackle the hard topics, and put embarrassment and fear of failing aside. Let's question when we think a school may not be making the best academic, emotional, and even social choices for our children. Let's advocate for our children, no matter the stares, the gossip, or the judgement. Let's put our phones down and pick our metaphorical or even literal Pom-poms up, cheering them on in whatever they have found talent and joy in doing. Let's find ways to serve with our children right alongside us. Let's challenge and pray for the daddies, the grandfathers, the uncles, the men in their lives to step up and become the emotional, love-seeking, and time-giving men who show up and let God show off in their actions and their words. Let's find the time to pray and study the word first...those two things can not play second fiddle to our own hobbies and self interests. We can not equip and teach these precious gifts we have been given if we are not talking to the Father and listening to His word.
Father God, please let every word, every action, every thought be geared into how I can make this world a better place...even if that begins with the graciousness seen in spending a little extra time from my days grabbing a pair of running shoes and delivering them with a smile, a kiss, and a "run, baby, run."
God, forgive me, and make me a better momma.
