A Mom... And More

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Elisa Morgan shares an encouraging message to inspire moms.

You are a mom.

Your hands move to comfort, point to guide, poke to prod, grasp to warn, cup to catch, fold to hold.
Your feet climb to reach, stand to wait, rush to meet, stoop to join.
Your lips smile in praise, purse in correction, giggle in joy, kiss in abandon.
Your eyes open to see, strain to focus, roll with disbelief and close to pray.
Your heart lives on the outside of your body, both pounding with worry and pausing with trust.

You are a mom.

You nest and nurture, feed and fix, allow and answer.
You invent holidays and underline holy days.
You teach and learn, discipline and disciple, love and let go.
You give and give and give and give and give and give and give.
You go and go and go and go and go and go and go.
You guide and guide and guide and guide and guide.

You are a mom.

Your very being wraps about your children, shaping them and their world.
Your soul sings with purpose.
Your body pulses with their needs and your ability to meet them.

You are a mom.

You sacrifice all you have for those you love the most until you are

Empty…
Angry…
Spent…
Done.

Except that you’re not done. You’re not done 'til you’re dead. You’re never not a mom.

How do you continue? Where do you find the hope to lift your head?

Here. Hold on to this: You are a mom. And more. Lift your head and remember the rest of you. The parts you laid down in moments when you thought they somehow got in the way of being a mom. Except they don’t get in the way. They actually are the way back to being the mom you want to be – the mom you were made to be.

You are a mom … and more.

You are a mom … and a woman.

Take a short field trip to a mirror. No, not a full-length mirror. Just a waist up version. Or the rear view mirror as you carpool. Now… look into your eyes. Your very own eyes. Resist the urge to look away. Grab her gaze, this woman who was once so clearly you. She still is. You. See her. Love her. Like her. Hold her in your sights and bring her into your mothering. You are a woman. I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

You are a mom … and a partner.

You may be married. You parent with another. Grab a sticky and scribble out three words that describe who you are in this relationship. Not in your role as mom but in the relationship of parenting. Glue? Hope? Nurture? Place the sticky where you can see it and remember. If you’re not married and you parent alone, touch the memory of how you came to be a mother. Gently, remind yourself that God parents with you. Partner with him in your parenting. He will never leave you. Or forsake you. Never. Nothing can separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

You are a mom … and a friend.

Pull out your phone and text the person you’d most like to talk with. If you had a whole day, you’d spend it with her. Push aside the “buts.” (But: she’s too busy. But: she works and you’re at home. But: her kids are even more needy than yours.) Talk to her. Set up a time for coffee. It won’t be enough. But it will be something. Two are better than one.

You are a mom … and a human.

Sit down in a comfortable chair. Do a “being” inspection. Think about the part of your human being you like the least. Your poochy stomach? The slack forming under your chin? The chicken-like skin under your arms? Your hips? The cellulite? The tongue that jumps to judge? The secret habit? The lazy streak that sends you to zone out in the only free minutes of your day? In your least-liked spot is your needy reality. You are a human being and therefore one in need of hope and help. Let this knowingness bend you to receive. Thank God for making you human. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.

You are a mom … and a child.

Kneel. Now move to all fours. Maybe even lay down flat. Look at life from this spot: down. From the view of a baby, a toddler, a child, what do you see? Electrical outlets. Legs of chairs. Baseboards. Carpet pile. Dust balls under the couch. Blades of grass. Bugs. You may be the one who drives the minivan and stares in the cupboard for contents for dinner and washes towels and runs the bathwater and vacuums up dog hair … but you are still a child. Beloved by your Father. Let him love you. Let the little children come …

Tired? Spent? Worn? Done?

You’re not done 'til you're dead. Find hope by finding … again … that you are a mom … and more.

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