the sweetest love

my sweet mama kay

The night that we started a sleep schedule with loralai, I cried. I cried because she was crying. I cried realizing that as much as I wanted to hold her and soothe her, it wasn’t healthy for me to stop the tears every time. I knew that at some point I had to let her learn how to get herself to sleep and then back to sleep. And then I cried more tears realizing that this moment was the beginning of letting go.

But why? Why would God give me such a new life only to tell me that I had to already learn to let go of her?

It was a bittersweet realization that Loralai was God’s first and wouldn’t always be mine to hold and comfort and soothe and smother with kisses. And then I cried some more. I cried for my mom. I finally understood her tears for me. And my heart broke – I somehow felt immensely selfish and horrible for every mean word I had ever spoken to her. I felt terrible for every temper tantrum I pitched in a dressing room (‘cause Lord knows I threw ‘em!), for every slam of the door, stop of the foot up the stairs…every disobedient act that I acted upon. So as I laid in bed that night, I emailed my mom to tell her thank you.

I realized her love – a mama’s love.

I firmly believe that God gives us all the capacity to love and to know the love of a mother even if we aren’t mothers. But I can now honestly stand in line with every mom that ever was and testify that the love that God has for us must be nearly painful for him to endure. It must be because if it’s more than moms love their babies, then His love is so enormous. So so enormous. I’m overwhelmed even trying to fathom his love for me – for us – simply based on the love I have for Loralai.

So in my email I thanked my mom for putting up with all of the tantrums I threw, the selfishness she endured, the hormone rages, the pity parties, the teenage awkwardness, or anything that I ever may have done that ever made her feel like I didn’t love her. I wanted her to know, so desperately, that ever since our eyes first met on that afternoon in 1979, I fell just as much in love with my mama as she did with me. And I loved it when she held me when I was little – I still remember how it felt when she rocked me in our short little blue rocking chair. And I still remember how it felt when she would tickle my arm for endless pleading minutes before bedtime. And I still remember just how her voice sounds when she would make up countless stories about this little worm (I loved those stories). And I still remember how I loved going into her bathroom in the mornings before school, while she got ready, and falling back asleep under my grandmom’s satin robe that she saved – I felt so safe under that robe and in my mom’s presence. And I still remember how I loved seeing my mom at every one of my softball games and how thankful I was for the cold cold ice water that only she would remember to bring. And I still thank God for every turkey sandwich, granny smith apple and pretzel lunch my mom packed for me. And I can still remember how it felt for my mom to rub my head and run her hands through my hair – and every now and then if I’m lying near her, she’ll still do that and somehow that just makes the whole world seem better.

When I emailed my mom that night, I wanted her to know that I loved her because now I knew. Now I knew how hard it was to let go and how much courage my mom must have had the first time I went to school, or had my first date, or went to college, or got married…and I will probably never forget the look on her face as I road out of our driveway on the way to the hospital to be induced (the first time – ha!). I remember thinking – that was a look of both pride and sadness. She was so excited that her baby was having a baby, but then again…it was another moment of having to let go.

It’s hard being a mom. And yet the most blessed job in all the world. To be given the privilege of being able to grow life in your womb and birth it into the world is incredibly sacred. You know the moment that you find out that you’re pregnant that life will never be the same – and it isn’t. It’s much more rich. Your ministry changes. Before you ministered to others (and still you do), but now you minister to your babies because it is their souls that you want saved. Life’s focus changes. And while it’s sleep deprived, emotional, hormonal and probably causes for more dressing room tantrums, it IS the greatest gift God would ever bestow upon any woman.

I’m so thankful to be a mom and I’m so grateful for mine.

Isaiah 66:13
As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; and you will be comforted over Jerusalem.