I've never experienced anything that made me overwhelmed to the extremes like this, both good and bad. Monday was a night that left Eliot and I on our own as I sent Russ off to small group by himself. I had a date with some dust bunnies before round 2 of the home study and it's just better if no one else is around to see what happens to them behind closed doors.
While we were eating dinner at his tiny kid table, I got pretty choked up out of nowhere. Sometimes I just can't believe that I get to be his mom. Out of all the women in all the world, God chose me. That rocks me off my chair (not literally, although it is a pretty small chair). There was no mistake. I didn't force it to happen, I couldn't have. Too many details just fell into place. He chose me for this exact role. Whatever Eliot is supposed to be/do, I was picked to be a part a key role in that. To quote my favorite Bible story and Halloween costume from '83-'86, "And who knows if you have come to this position for such a time as this." It is humbling, encouraging, and quite possibly the closest thing to my heart.
Now, on the flip side. More times than I care to admit, I look at the clock during my time with Eliot and think, "What now?" I don't feel like playing baseball and if I see another Lightening McQueen somebody's going to get hurt. And immediately I feel guilty. I don't get to see him all day and then come home and can't muster the energy to fake-love playing with cars? Sometimes I push through it, sometimes I find something else for the two/three of us to do, and sometimes the selfishness wins. I'm thankful for this post from Mckmama's blog that gave me a better perspective. I will probably read it at least once a month. If you haven't read it yet, head on over.
It's safe to say motherhood, the blessing and the responsibility is always on my mind. I was encouraged lately by mom-posts in the blog world. There was Sara's post and then Tiny Twig's post that posted this video:
the words to the video short:
You are a miracle.
And I have to love you this fiercely: So that you can feel it even after you leave for school, or even while you are asleep, or even after your childhood becomes a memory.
You’ll forget all this when you grow up. But it’s okay.
Being a mother means having your heart broken.
And it means loving and losing and falling apart and coming back together.
And it’s the best there is. And also, sometimes, the worst.
Sometimes you won’t have anyone to talk to.
Sometimes you’ll wonder if you’ve forgotten who you are.
But you must remember this: What you’re doing matters.
And you have to be brave with your life so that others can be brave with theirs.
The truth is, being a woman is a gift. Tenderness is a gift. Intimacy is a gift. And nurturing the good in this world is a nothing short of a privilege.
That’s why I have to love you this way. So I can give what I have to you. So that you can carry it in your body and pass it on.
I have watched you sleep. I’ve kissed you a million times. And I know something that you don’t, yet:
You are writing the story of your only life every single minute of every day.And my greatest hope for you, sweet child, is that I can teach you how to write a good one.