There are those days I feel much older than my years. I feel so certain of myself. I look at my hands as they write out words in a journal, type at a keyboard, color in pictures, and knead bread at my counter and I know them. I can see my years through them as they slowly age. I know what they have been through, and still they serve and soothe.
Then there are days when it feel strange to even call myself a woman, because wasn't it just yesterday I was in high school? How am I here, rubbing backs, giving baths and holding all these lives in my hands?
There are days that I still feel so new to myself, still trying to figure out who I am. I want everything just to pause, just for a minute, so I can try to get my equilibrium back. I want to catch my breath and figure out what it is I am supposed to do.
There are times that I love who I have become, and there are times that I feel I need to focus every blessed minute on getting my life in order.
Here I am, at a time in life when I should know who I am and be walking in it with confidence and authority, left wordless when it comes to explaining myself, to knowing myself.
The things I thought defined me are being let go.
The roles I've had are ending.
The philosophical leanings have shifted.
The spiritual gifts that once poured out of me have dried up.
I don't know me. And I don't know what my life will be like one year from now. Where will we be living? Where will my big girl be attending school? How will I fill my days? Will all the girls finally be sleeping through the dark and quiet hours of the night? I don't know and to even try to imagine a day in any sort of detail seems an act of folly.
But I do know this, I am a mother.
I might question the giftings God has given me at different seasons of my life, but one thing I will never question is that I am a mother.
I was made to rock babies, to sing songs, to tickle piggies, to color pictures, to tell stories.
I was made to clean up play-dough finger paint dirty bottoms, runny noses, last night's dishes, and smelly socks.
I was made to hold hands, hold hearts, hold in laughter, hold in tears, and hold my breath.
I was made to teach, to share, to fight for and to love on my children.
I was made to pray for, pray over, and pray into my children.
My goals might change. My city of residence might change. My vocation might change. My passions might change. My talents my change.
But I know, that I know, that I know that I was made to be a mother.
And when I am discouraged, and wonder what else there is for me, the Mother Heart in me that grows and grows and grows reminds me that just like my girls are nuanced and multi-dimensional, so am I .
My motherhood doesn't define me - it refines me. It has softened my heart to the needs of others around me.
To kneel down next to those who ache and help them up, strengthen them, speak life to them. This is what I am made to do.
To give voice to the voiceless. To empower. To shine a light. This is what I am made to do.
To call out into being, even if my voice is but a whisper, the things that aren't yet. This is what I am made to do.
To be part of seeing His Kingdom come, His will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. This is what I am made to do.
And so, on the eve of my birthday, I will press publish. And then I will go into the other room, where my babies wait for me. And we will sing songs, read stories, and hold each other tight. And I'll know, that I know, that I know, that I was made to be a mother.
On Thursdays we gather together to celebrate redemption. I'm so excited to be a part of this team! Want to join?
- Link up a post (old or new) that relates to this week's prompt: MOTHER
- Put the "Imperfect Prose" button at the bottom of your post, so others can find there way there
- Read each other's posts and ENCOURAGE them