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I’m that Mom

Today, as I rocked my littlest asleep, trying to exhale as slowly and peacefully as he does, I smiled at the thought – I am that Mom.

You know the one I’m talking about.

The Mom who had visions of keeping her house up, her mind fed, her husband happy, and her babies taught. The Mom who planned to earn her apron strings mastering recipes of savory suppers, the Mom who would fill the extra hours with scrapbooking and journaling, baking pies and swimming laps, and regular coffee nights with friends.

So not so.

Instead, I am the Mom rocking a baby boy who kept me up last night, because he knows the difference between a paci and would not take it. I am the Mom who chased my toddler around and around the kitchen table before counting him down from a tantrum, all to change a dirty diaper. The Mom who watches The Pioneer Woman make the meals that I fail to come close to achieving.

I cry when I am happy, I cry when they are hurting, I cry when I am. Tears that I must slip away to hide. Though, I do smile more. I laugh often. I laugh at the building blocks in refridgerator and toy truck waiting in the washing machine, at the little mouth wide open that imitates mine, the way he dances and reaches his short arms up high.

I try not to worry. I think about those things too often, the critism, the tug of war. The hurts from the past that are so hard to forget, the uncertainty of what is to come. Each day, I must surrender again and again.

I read the Scriptures and Children’s Bible Stories and show the pictures, even when no one appears to be listening. I pray and talk to Jesus and repeat and repent and repeat.

My hair is often pulled back, my make-up is smudged when on, my clothes are usually the same when I am home. I am that Mom.

But, do you know what really makes me – me?

The love of a God who gave me these babies, who gave me this name. Fearfully and wonderfully made – applies to me, too.

I scoop up and hug, because He carries me. I can smile back at the mirror, because He knows every messy hair. At the end of the day, I know it’s not all about me. It is not all about them. It is not.

I am that Mom. The Mom, who He chose to share His perfect creation – a husband who loves and leads and two baby boys who teach me each day. I am the Mom who wants to be me to the fullest, to serve like He taught, and do the task that only I can. I am that Mom, who He led to a cross to wash away my sin.

Because of Him alone, I am that Mom.

“(It is the power of God) who saved us and called us to a holy calling, not because of our works but because of his own purpose and grace, which he gave us in Christ Jesus before the ages began.” 2 Timothy 1:8-9

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