While I think it's pretty cool that you've created us to be celebrators, no celebration is glorious in full unless we recognize the Almighty creator of what we're celebrating. If there's anyone to give credit to on Mother's day, it's you.
So, Thank you.
Thank you for making motherhood and letting me partake in the privilege of 'mothering.' Thank you that I get to be an extension of your love and nurturing heart and that I get to display who you are in some small way to four little eyes everyday. Thank you that part (most) of my 'mothering' looks like getting to be mothered myself by you, the Master of motherhood; for your grace and regular whisper in my heart to keep trying even when I fail every.single.day.
Thank you that motherhood isn't an exclusive club that only a few be a part of. You've made motherhood available for us through birth, adoption, foster care, spiritual mothering and more. Thank you that I've been mothered by so many more than just my own biological mom, and that you've placed such wonderful women to mother my kids. I love that Eowyn calls more women than me 'momma' and that so many sweet souls hold my baby and guide my toddler. You don't ask us to do this alone.
Speaking of, thanks for my mom. Thank you that she raised me on a diet of grace and do overs. On kitchen dances and goofy wit. She spoke big words like "world changer" and "initiative" and built me to see people hurting and reminded me to not assume I know the whole story. I'm so grateful that I can still go to her and be honest-even if I have to catch my breath in doing it-and that you gave me a momma that reminds me to breath, because she-having watched me forget so many times-knows that I sometimes need to hear just that.
Thank you for letting me raise my own crazy kids. I know you have a sense of humor-that's always been pretty clear-but since you let me in on these two? My understanding of silly, and joy, and pure-innocent-shenanigan-tomfoolery has exploded. You knew how much I'd love this. These kids? As Eowyn would say: "Best. Present. Ever." Goodness! The way you designed these two in all their hilarity. You're a genius. They're my kind of people.
Thank you for the fragility of motherhood, and yet it's steadfastness. I love that once motherhood comes, it stays. Forever. Even if the babies never breath or take their last breath before their mama. Even if all we get is a positive pregnancy test, or that sweet flickering heartbeat on the ultrasound screen, Even so, thank you that we get to still stay mothers. That we got to have babies. I'm growing to appreciate the ache. It only comes (and never leaves) when you love someone more than anything else and I'm so grateful to get to feel that. Even when it hurts. Thank you that you don't ever expect us to 'get over' our aches, our babies, our positives. Thank you for opening my eyes through miscarriage to the grief so many carry. Through the pains of motherhood, you've changed me. As Rocket on Guardians of the Galaxy says (and since you know me, you know why I'm bringing this up) "we all have dead people." And while it sounds so vulgar, it's that phrase-in it's rawness and timeliness when I heard it-that's allowed and continues to allow me to breath when I start to ache with the 'what if's and what would have beens.' You reminded me in a cold Finnish theatre, that I am so not alone. The human experience, the motherhood experience, so often includes so much pain, grief and agony. But it isn't an experience we face alone.
Plus! You love us so much you don't let even the pain stay this way. Thank you, that we can rely on you to make the dead alive again; and that while we all have to face and experience death we also get to experience triumph over the grave. Thank you for not leaving us in our pain. For bringing beauty from our grief.
Thank you for the rawness of it all. The way motherhood scarred me (my heart, my chest, my belly) in the best of ways. It has made me fall to my knees like nothing ever has. Thank you that it has, like a boiling pot, brought all my impurities-my anger, my impatience, my selfishness, my oh-so-stubborn pride (and a few under-my-breath curse words) all to the surface. I'm grateful for the honest responses that only children can give. Oh, and the way my girl's eyes stare into my face? Thank you for giving me the chance to daily stare into my own soul. You love me enough to not let those ugly things stay in my heart. You love me enough to give me daily graces to taste something new.
Thanks for two kids that are actually kind of hard-in their own ways. Thank you that you gave me strong-willed, albeit glorious little ones. Ones that I've rarely called 'easy.' Perhaps someone with a different temperament would see them as easy (?) , Maybe I'm just ill-fit? Weak? Scratch the maybe-I know that I am both. But YOU decided that I got to be their mama. And you knew, didn't you? You knew that this mama who is so quick to find a solution, to try and control, to make a judgement- you knew I needed them. I needed not one, but two takes at humility. You knew that to make me softer, kinder, more gracious, less puffed up on my own awesomeness, I need two crazy, agonizingly beautiful, little sandpapers to rub out all my hard heart spots day after day. You're making me soft and yet fierce and brave in the most wild of ways. Your grace, is in fact, sufficient for me.
Thank you that while I'm raising my children, you're raising me. And that even while I play the part of mother, I'm still your child, and my own mother's child, and that I get to still grow and not have it all figured out. Thank you that you don't expect me to be perfect when you handed me these (banshee) screaming babies. And for the way you've made motherhood-at least in my experience-more about me recognizing my own weaknesses and growing into the parent they need and less about me putting on a good show for my kids. (Unless you count my awesome raptor-dino-run. That's a good show. That's a very good show. Eowyn likes that show.)
Thanks for crafting those little hearts to love us through our trip-ups and fall-flat-on-our-faces; For making them natural grace givers and quick forgivers. Thank you that you've given us the words 'sorry' and 'I forgive you" and "let's start the day over." And redemption. If motherhood is anything, it's a redemptive story.
Just all of it, Jesus. Thank you. This tangled beautiful mess of raising and being raised with little people-who act like mirrors, yet act so much like their very own selves. Thank you for it all.