It was one of those unicorn days, when everything seamlessly falls into place. The weather was beautiful when we emerged from the YMCA, and the twins’ gymnastics class had let out right on time, so we headed to the outdoor playground to get out a few more wiggles. Nico and I walked laps around the playground’s perimeter as the kids chased each other up ladders and raced down slides. He kicked excitedly from the carrier, smiling at his siblings each time they ran past.
From my walking spot, I realized that the park backed up to a lake on the Y’s property. I rallied the big kids, and we all wandered to the lake’s edge to explore. The kids spent some time climbing (faux) boulders situated on the lake’s edge, and we even did crayon rubbings of some fossils embedded in the rocks’ surfaces. My inner teacher swelled with pride at this spontaneous opportunity for a science lesson.
A red bird was spotted overhead and we decided to chase her down the nature path that led to a trickling creek. The kids skipped happily along the path, pointing out unusual plants and marveling at the lush foliage that spilled across the creekbanks. Turtles could be glimpsed in the mossy water, and a crane swooped down to fish. My kids were all enraptured by the picturesque scene we had stumbled upon, and I was enraptured by their joyous faces, upbeat moods, and contagious enthusiasm for nature’s beauty. This is it, I thought. This is a moment I will remember in years to come, when my kids have grown and I want to recall what life was like with four littles.
With Mother’s Day approaching, I’ve been reflecting on my past experiences with this holiday. There were the years before motherhood was really on my radar, and the years when I felt ready for motherhood but it hadn’t happened yet. I recall with vivid clarity my first Mother’s Day to an infant baby boy who had totally overhauled my world in all the best ways, and I remember the painful Mother’s Days during the secondary-infertility years when I was grieving the possibility that my precious boy may never have a sibling. There were a few Mother’s Days as a shocked but grateful mom to three, and one as an even MORE shocked expecting mother to my fourth.
And then there’s this Mother’s Day, the one that is unquestionably my best yet. It turns out that ten, five, and eight-months are three of my VERY FAVORITE ages—just the right mix of independent, but also too dependent to be much trouble (toddler and teen years, I see you coming and I’m not ready!). The twins’ playfulness brings a sense of adventure, Charleston’s bright mind offers the intellectual stimulation that was lacking in the early mothering years, and Nico still provides me with all the snuggles I need. It’s hard to imagine an age-mix that could be any better than this. I wish I could bottle up this time . . . or better yet, squeeze us all into a bottle where we could be indefinitely preserved.
A few weeks ago, while sitting with the women in my Bible study small group that spent the last year studying the psalms, I had a realization that nearly every shared anecdote and lesson related in some way to our unique mothering journeys. We leaned into God in moments of longing for a child, recognizing Him as the giver of life. We cried out to Him after miscarriages (and, in one woman’s tragic circumstances, after the loss of two children), grateful for His comforting presence and for the promise that we will be reunited with our babies in Heaven. We sought the Lord’s wisdom amid prickly parenting problems, and clung to Him for strength when we reached the end of ourselves. In observing our children, we started to comprehend our own sinfulness and limited abilities. And we caught glimpses of the Father’s love for us through the lens of our own boundless love for our children. Even the women among our group who have not given birth were able to glean lessons from their undeniable mothering instincts.
Perhaps it was just this particular group who is especially in tune with the ways God speaks through our mothering. Or maybe this is true for all mothers; maybe God uses this mothering part of womanhood that is so indelibly tied to our female nature as an arrow that points us back to Him. And if it’s true that God has something to teach each woman in every stage of motherhood, what is it that God is teaching me now, in this time-capsule-worthy era of my own motherhood?
Grace is high on that list—God’s unmerited favor that is so abundant in the beautiful faces of four children I miraculously conceived and birthed and have been given the opportunity to raise. In them, I see that God is a giver of good gifts that are far beyond what we even dare ask. I’m learning how to delight in good gifts, despite feeling that I am an unworthy recipient, and in my delight I am getting a taste of the ways the Father delights in me as His child.
In fitting with this year’s theme, motherhood now is teaching me what it looks like to shepherd a flock within my care, and also how to rely on my own Good Shepherd in moments when I find I’ve reached my limits. I recognize the challenges, the sorrows, and the joys of the Shepherd in caring for sheep that are always adorable but often foolish and stubborn.
And finally, I am learning gratitude: how to feel it, and express it, and be shaped by it in ways that first acknowledge how much I’ve been given and then respond with worship and praise. I did nothing to deserve the incredible blessing that is being a mom to my kids. It’s a gift that not every woman is given, and one I hope never to take for granted.
I have no doubt that there will be many hard Mother’s Days in my future—years when being a mom is far less rewarding or easy than it is now. And I recognize that for far too many women, this is a day that is always hard. My heart aches on their behalf. But I will also rejoice and be glad that this is a (Mother’s) day that the Lord has made, and one I will savor.
