I love this blog for many honorable reasons. But I also love it for one selfish reason. It’s mine. All mine. I never realized what a commodity that could be until I became a mom. In the beginning, I was only asked to give up little things–time, sleep, my waistline. And then they started crawling and I surrendered a little more–tidiness, order, all of the keys on my laptop (which, FYI, can actually be popped right off.) Then one day I blinked and there they were–chattering away a mile a minute, going to pre-school, making friends, getting their feelings hurt, asking big questions, challenging my authority, drawing me pictures, jumping in bed to kiss my very pregnant belly and perhaps ride it like a cowgirl… And I realized there wasn’t a square inch of my personhood they hadn’t entirely and eternally invaded.
I love them with these dry, un-manicured hands that wash their dishes and scrub their faces and brush their hair and tie their shoes. I love them with these swollen ankles that race around town taking them places. I love them with this horrifyingly out-of-tune voice that sings them to sleep, and lays down the law, and tells them stories about when I was a little girl. I love them with this face that will probably wrinkle up like a prune by the time I’m 45 because it’s so used to smooching small cheeks and making silly faces. I love them with the eyes that always know where they are, the ears that hear their cries even when daddy is snoring, and the mind that remembers Tuesday is Johnny Appleseed day and we must wear red to school. I love them with the soul that begs God for their salvation, and I love them with the heart I have lifted out of my chest and tucked away in theirs.
Truly, I love this lot of mine. And yet, at the very same time, there are days when I go to a coffee shop and see college girls writing papers and giggling about boys, and I remember what it was like to have a mind that was completely my own. To be consumed with nobody else’s problems. To think about nobody else’s needs. To dream dreams just for me, and pursue ambitions just because I could. I remember what it was like to have things that were mine.
This blog is one tiny corner of my world that’s all mine. It’s the place where I remember that there’s more to me than grocery lists and Windex spray. And for one or two hours, when I sit down in this virtual world, I don’t think about the crusty broccoli under the table or the mismatched socks in the hamper. Instead of looking outward, I look inward. I think about the woman who picks up the broccoli and sorts through the socks. I think about how she feels, what she needs, who she is. It would be so easy for me to lose her. In the mayhem of everyday life, it would be easy to go through the motions and then collapse in front of the TV. To grow completely out of touch with the woman inside the mom. To shush her, ignore her, numb her…until one day she bursts into tears at the dinner table and everybody wonders why.
That’s one of the reasons I write. Because I need to stay in touch with that woman. I need to know how she’s doing. I need to speak the gospel over her heart and life. Otherwise, she won’t make it. Sure, she’ll still flip pancakes and drive carpools, but underneath it all her heart will grow hard and her spirit cynical.
With all that being said, I’m posting today because in the next few weeks my life is going to get crazy. In the midst of holiday hoopla and an exciting new job for my husband (hooray!), we are going to meet our third little daughter in just two weeks! Yes, yes (to the kind onlookers in the grocery store), my hands are going to be very full…but so is my heart. And as my home gets louder, this blog is going to get quieter. For the next few months I will miss you, and the way the woman inside of this mom gets to connect with the woman inside of you.
But believe me, even in this crazy season, whenever I get the chance I will still slip away and find time to check up on the woman underneath the nursing tops and smudged mascara. I will find the time to speak gospel truth over her. And I hope that sometime this Christmas, you too will be able to slip away, mix up some hot chocolate, and spend time with the woman inside of you, and with the God who loves her so very much.
You May Also Like: