Good Job, Mama
I find myself on an airplane crossing the country, taking Ruby to a Spellers Camp (1) along with her sister. As the girls get settled in (Ruby giggling at every bump), I open my notebook and begin brainstorming ideas for how I might better relate (1) how our awesome God has worked in this seemingly impossible situation of having not one, but two nonverbal children but also (2) the very real and painful battles of the mind and spirit that are ongoing where God doesn’t seem all that present.
Funny, I think, how God is so much more “awesome” when I can plainly see results, as if He has lost His way in (my) darkness. My feet may be on solid ground, but sometimes (toomanytimes), my hands are flailing around as if balance was All Up To Me.
I am thinking, as I sit here in seat 18C, of the mother on the aisle across, and how she is doing so well with her wee daughter, songs and snacks and sweet words to pass the time. I want to bless her with encouragement, and to tell her about the source of mine.
Instead I riffle through my belongings, assist my Ruby with her lunch, and do not invade the space this mother is trapped in for the next few hours. I feel ashamed of myself. I eat a piece of chocolate instead.
In my notebook, I talk to her. I tell her that the only security we have as mothers is in Christ alone, that no matter what we do and don’t do, outside forces can and do disrupt whatever good we hope for and/or attain by our efforts. I tell her that it’s normal to be unsure if she’s doing the right thing, and that even if it was a 100% confidence in the right thing then and there today, it still may be the fodder of regret tomorrow.
I say it’s normal to feel isolated and lonely at times, and even people on crowded sidewalks can and do feel likewise. I tell her to keep her friends close, but recognize that friendships can falter and fade, so stay curious and interested in cultivating new ones as well. I exhort her to stay closest to your bestest friend, King Jesus, above all.
I plead with her to practice self care, to sleep as best she is able, to nourish herself and eat more than just the scraps on her toddler’s plate, to buy herself flowers.
I continue as I hear her child whine a little: you will inevitably grow in confidence and in the assurance of your own mothering, but confidence isn’t a gift that just falls from the sky (actually, let’s not talk about things falling from the sky right now) but it is rooted and strengthened from plowing through hardships in the middle of dead winter. And yes that includes the monotony (the bane of monotomy!) of laundry, meal making, and reading Richard Scarry books. And by the time you feel like you’ve gotten into a good groove, your child will be onto another stage in life and ultimately will leave your theater completely. Then you get to wonder if you are grandmothering correctly.
I realize, then, that I’m not talking in my head just to this one mother. I am talking to myself, I am talking to my friends, I am talking to my readers. I am so pained in my heart to tell you (and me!) that Christ is the One doing a good work in you (and me) so all you need to do (all I need to do) is just show up in faithfulness, and trust Him. If mothering and wiving and homemaking were so darned easy, we’d have no need for faith and trust. Or for one another.
Our homes matter more than we can even imagine (or perhaps we CAN even dare to imagine, given the state of the culture we see crumbling around us). We are in a spiritual battle beyond our comprehension, but we do we not know the Victor?
Perhaps it is my age (54) or maybe it’s my roller coaster marriage (or is that not normal?). Or perhaps it is my homeschooling mothering background (9 children, 2 with Down syndrome). But at this stage in my life, I feel a growing inner fire to both remind myself and my readers the gravitas and power of our homes and what it really is we’re doing within them.
We descend through the clouds and I dream of podcasting more, chatting more, and coming up with ways we can actually meet in real time (would you like that? Zooming with coffee?). Thanks to the young mother across the aisle, I’m more motivated than ever to speak out and come alongside you all. You who battle to make your homes sanctuaries and holy ground are my heroes, and I want to look you all in the eye (eyes) and remind you: Jesus is God, you are doing a good work, and He is not finished with His work in the world so we aren’t either.
We land and do the awkward dance of standing around and waiting to shuffle off the plane. The small curly headed child is happily chitchattering and I am blessing the Lord so much for her parents. I catch the mama’s eyes as I turn to leave. “Good job, Mama, well done!”
She smiles in relief (don’t we all just want our kids to be a blessing, especially on an airplane?), says a few words, and in her own way reminds me that God, actually, says the very same to me.
P.S. I really did write this on my teeny iPhone screen. I hope it looks and reads all right.
P.P.S. Text or otherwise encourage another mom today ❤️
Ruby is 16 with Down syndrome and apraxia. You can read more about nonverbal people like her learning to communicate through spelling at Spellers.com.