Friday, March 26, 2010


"Daaaddddy's home!" Squeals and screams of delight accompany the pounding of little feet as a herd of children stampede to the door. Dad's arrival home at the end of the workday is occasion for tumultuous celebration.

Me? I'm just Mom. Plain old all-day-every-day boring Mom. I used to envy Steve because of the excitement he triggered just by walking through the door. Wasn't anyone ever excited to see me?

Have any of you other moms noticed that when your kids have thrilling news, or when it's time to play, or when spirits are simply running high, Dad is the parent of choice? But, on the other hand....

Have you noticed that when a child wakes up sick in the middle of the night, or has a bad dream, he always - always - stumbles groggily to Mom's side of the bed. "Moooommm, I don't feel so good!" On a few particularly weary occasions, I actually "played 'possum", hoping my little night shadow would migrate around to Dad's side of the bed. Nope.

This got me to wondering - Why is it that happy times must be shared with Dad, but midnight goblins and 2:00 AM throw-ups demand Mom's attention? It seemed to me that disproportionate honor was being given to the male parent!

As I continued muddling over this phenomenon, something occurred to me. Those late-night entreaties for comfort were actually an unconscious display of tremendous honor. When my child was ill or frightened in the dark of the night, the need for reassurance or comfort meant he needed Mom.

I wanted to be chosen for the laughter and merriment that fell to Dad, but had instead been chosen for the tears and fears and fevers. Still, realizing that I had been singled out for the "honor" of wee-hour willies made me aware that I was indeed special to my children. Those nights of interrupted sleep became a little bit less of a burden, more of a privilege.

* * * * *
"Mom, Mom, wake up! I had a scary dream!" A little ghost shivered at my elbow.

"Hmmm?" My eyes didn't want to open. "Climb up next to me, honey. You're okay." Barely reaching consciousness, I snuggled my toddler close and tucked the blankets around her. Motherhood - what a tremendous honor!


emily said...

thank you :)

Anonymous said...

ditto. I was talking to Westmo the other day, about the offensiveness of being asked to be conformed to the image of Christ- to give, and give, and give, without receiving- to give until you have given yourself entirely away and all that is left to give is Jesus. You have done this for us! And you know how hard a path it is to follow!

Your gold has not been squandered-
where others make beautiful things of their gifts, you have given yours freely away. And that is Christlike.

On the last day, the women who have actualized their potential and done things with their lives will stand, beautiful and powerful and intelligent, and receive their silver tiaras like supermodels.

Then, you will receive a magnificent crown:

elaborate; fantastic; towering; impossible; blazing with elfin gems and living stars, and studded with your intellect (what potential it had!,) your beauty (don't you know what having kids does to your body!?,) your time (mommy! I threw up in bed!,) your comfort (you have HOW many people in that tiny house?!,)- all of it.

What a rich jewel to cast before our master's feet!

GKC says,
"And if our hands are glad, O God, to cast them down like showers,
'Tis not that they enrich thine hands, but they are saved from ours."

I love you!
But God loves you more!


Jenny said...

Wow. Audrey has pneumonia this week and I just got back from a two-hour doctor visit (was there yesterday, too). I'm sucking down caffeine at the speed of light and trying to talk myself into getting groceries with mom in a minute. What an encouragement from a beloved sister. But I think Reu may have topped you! Thanks so much! PRESS ON, Jenny, PRESS ON! :-)