Day 25

Yesterday I had a few minutes and decided to work on video 25!! I hope everyone had a wonderful Mother's Day. This video is about a few thoughts I had this weekend as I celebrated Mother's Day in a different way.

The perfect gift for Mother's Day

Motherhood.

Did we even know what we were signing up for? Did we even comprehend the magnitude of the responsibility being a parent would be? Did we know—in our carefree years without children—that a single person could come into our life and change us forever? Did any of us really know that is was possible to love something so much—but have no idea how to do it all?

Not even a little bit—we had no idea that something so small could leave an impact so big.  Something so perfect could remind us of our imperfections—because the truth is, parenthood has never been done perfectly. Sometimes we are going to watch our babies’ hurt—and what hurts the most, is sometimes there is nothing we can do to take it away.

This week started out as any other. Sunday we all went to church and celebrated the twin’s birthday with family. Sunday night we packed lunches and got everyone clean and ready for the school days ahead.

Monday morning I woke up early. Tytus had to be at the surgery center by 7 to get his tonsils and adenoids removed and a new set of tubes in his ears. I was still a little tired from my travels the two weeks before, but we sat in his room laughing as we waited for the doctors.

He did some happy dances for my camera and put stickers all over his gas mask—he was content for the most part, and motivated to get the surgery that had promised him better health.

As the doctors pushed him off to the surgery room, I went out to the waiting room. All went as planned and soon they were calling me back to go greet him as he was waking up.

He slept for the most part on the way home. I put him to sleep on my bed and the first day was fairly easy. He had a hard time swallowing but he was handling everything just fine.

The first half of the night went pretty smooth. I woke him up whenever my alarm went off to take his pain meds. That morning he woke up early in a lot of pain—crying every few minutes for relief. The day dragged by, we took a nap together on my bed and did the best we could to stay on top of the meds.

That night he went to sleep in my office. Not long after I fell asleep I heard a heart pounding kind of screaming. I ran into the office to find Tytus hunched over and holding his throat. I swept him up and ran into the kitchen to grab his medicine.

I held it up to squeeze it into his mouth and he smacked my hand away. For hours we fought. I even tried to lay him on the couch and force it down his throat. Nothing. He wouldn't stop screaming. So I finally made a spot for me on the floor next to his bed. I was getting desperate to help him find the relief I knew the pain medication could bring. I said over his screams, “Hey Tytus . . . as your mom it hurts me so much to see you in so much pain. And I feel helpless watching you—barely able to talk or swallow—and I wish more than anything I could take this pain from you. I would trade spots with you in a heartbeat—but I cant. I am not going to pretend I know how this feels for you, because I have never had this surgery, and even if I had . . . it wouldn’t be the same. But I need you to trust me—as a person who wants to help you, and actually has the tools to give you relief—I need you to trust me right now that this medicine is the only way your aren’t going to be in so much pain. I need you to let me help you. I need you to let me—your mom—love you.”

I thought for sure my braveheart speech would help him come to his senses. I had played it all out in my mind. I would motivate him to see things the way they were, and he would see clearly that my love for him was going to help him. I did—after all—have the tools that would help ease his suffering.

But he refused. I felt helpless. I spent the rest of the night watching my son ache in agony—and there was nothing I could do about it.

He had to be the one to make the choice to take the help—and the love—I had to offer. No matter how many times I squirted that liquid into his mouth . . . he had spit it out. NO matter how may times I had begged for him to let me ease his suffering . . . he had refused to let me do my job—as his protector, as his designated nurse . . . and as his mom.

The night soon turned to morning and the stubborn little man was still in pain. Not because we had no options to ease his burdens . . . but because he had refused to see that a minute of pain—swallowing that medication—was going to be the very thing that would have taken the pain away.

I knew a girl once—I think you might too—who didn’t believe in something that was right in front of her. She suffered, for years, wishing for something that was already there all along. Grace. Hope. Healing—the easing of her burdens.

So parents—as we spend a lot of time wondering why our children cannot see things the way that we see them. Why they can’t see the help—we are so willing and able to give . . . just know this: we weren’t the first parent’s to ever sit back and wonder why sometimes they have to figure it out all on their own.

Because just like each of us, watching our babies struggle in ways we could easily have taken it all away—we all have a Father who has had to the same.

He watched as angry men crucified His Son, and He watches each of us—at one time or another—take the hardest road. Sometimes, not believing in any other option . . . we have been the children stubbornly hurting and crying out all night long for relief.

And just like I didn’t leave my son’s side that night, I know that Christ doesn’t leave ours. He doesn’t walk away and say, “You know what idiot . . . if you aren’t going to do it my way—then you can just suffer alone.” NO. He sits there—with that medicine in His hand, waiting for us to decide when we are ready to take it—to receive Him.

Some of us have taken all night to let Him help them—other’s are still trying to decide if they are ok with a plan different than their own. Some are still waiting for proof that He is really there. And that’s ok. He doesn’t make us take His help—because that was the plan we agreed to long ago. He would be there—on those dark nights full of all the pain and fear of the world—so we never had to be alone.

So maybe you are that parent, wondering why you keep failing the things you created . . . because you have to keep watching them hurt. Maybe you are the child wondering why your parent’s failed you—never could take away your pain.

Or maybe we are all just imperfect children and parent’s who are doing our best.  Maybe if we could see each other’s pain—the way that Christ does—we would be a little more generous with our love—the way that Christ is.

So today, I want you to remember that perfect parent’s don’t exist. Perfect, obedient children are not real. What’s real is LOVE. Love for all the imperfect parents and children we have been blessed to cross paths with.

Some might not be around as long as you think—so make sure those imperfections don’t keep you apart too long. This Mother’s Day we don’t celebrate or glorify a job that is easy—because it rarely is . . . but it sure is worth it.

And that’s what He thinks of you too.

Happy Mother's Day. 

and she loves them

There is a mother who is experiencing the ups and downs of a child with disabilities. She wakes each day, not knowing if this will be a day of laughter or tears. When people ask her what it’s like to raise a child like her daughter, she chooses to say, “My child is gift. She is a gift because I did not ask for her and I did not know that she was something that I needed. But God knew. He gave me the perfect gift, which I see now that I both want and need.” Amidst a life of struggle, she would not trade that imperfectly perfect child for anything. Because that gift is hers. And she loves her.

There is a mother who finally got to meet her sweet baby. The one that she prayed for, fought for, longed for, and was ultimately blessed with. And he is perfect. He is everything that she ever wanted. No matter the toil on her body, no matter the stretch on the finances, no matter the sleepless nights, the spit up, the diapers, etc. He is hers. And she loves him.

There is a mother with many children. Many she carried herself, and many who she gave the gift of a family to, through adoption. She now has great-grandchildren and many others in her family to love. However, not a day goes by that she does not think of her sweet son. The toddler son who got called back to heaven too early. The son whose portrait is what their posterity have to remember him by. The one where he's wearing a white shirt with a navy blue and white sailor collar, smiling like the happiest boy in the world. That son is one of many. She spent less time with him than any other child that she has. But death does not change the fact that he is hers. And she loves him.

There is a mother who feels like every day with her teenager is a fight that she will never be able to win. The rolls of the eyes, the back-talk or even worse – the silence. She used to know her child. This was the same child who used to hang on her every word, and crawl into bed with her when she was scared. This mother prays every day to find a way to connect with this daughter who is going through the drama and angst of the teenage battlefield. Because she is hers. And she loves her.

There is a mother who bears the pain and the scars of divorce. She bears more than her fair share, so as to protect her sweet babies from all of the sorrow that could be theirs. She never thought she could love again, but now that he is there in front of her, she is ready to give her children the example of a father that they always should have had, and her heart to a man who will treat her right. She is poised to balance on the tight rope of raising children with both a father and a stepfather, and even though she did not ask for this, she is willing to because those children need what’s best. They are hers. And she loves them.

There is a mother going through the unimaginable pain of a child who was in the right place at the wrong time, resulting in the loss of his friend’s life. She cringes as he endures the whispers and the stolen glances, and she rejoices when love and support are offered instead. She wants to wrap him in her secure embrace and make it like the accident never happened. But she knows she can’t, so she must be strong and be the hand that he can hold to get through this. Because he is hers. And she loves him.

There is a mother who always thought she would grow up, get married, have kids and live happily ever after. But years of infertility told her otherwise. She resigned herself to her new normal and was the best aunt that ever was. And then a bittersweet miracle occurred. The death of one mom made her an instant mother. The mother of a wonderful, teen-aged daughter whose adoption story could only be described as meant to be. This relationship grew and bridged a gap, bringing a daughter to a mother who had lost hope. And a mother to a daughter who had lost her own. It is not always perfect. But she is hers. And she loves her.

There is a mother bearing the pain of a child who has lost their way. The child she loves so much, not seeing their own life for what it's worth and not remembering who they are. This mother grieves every time she questions herself as to what went wrong, and what she could have done better. She grieves even when she knows that her child has free agency and can choose for themselves. Though her heart breaks every day, that child is hers. And she loves them.

There is a mother who is navigating the parenting waters by herself. Her husband fought, but ultimately had to depart this life, much too soon. But this mother has a daughter. A daughter who shows strength beyond her years and has a capacity to lead and uplift that is not known in many teenagers. Her daughter lifted her mother and brother when there was no strength left. This mother watches in awe as her daughter continues to become the child that she and her husband always envisioned. And she is hers. And she loves her.

There is a mother who feels as if she shouldn't be one. She feels too tired, too cranky, too poor, too impatient to do this job that accidentally came to her. She works two jobs just to feed the mouth of the child that she feels she is failing. But when this child grabs her face in his sticky hands and babbles something that sounds like, "I love you," she soaks it in and gathers the strength she needs to make it through one more day. Because he is hers. And she loves him.

There is a mother whose life was turned upside down by infidelity and its consequences. Without warning, her husband was removed from her life and her kids’ lives, by a man's jealous rage and a gun. A young widow with many young children could have fallen to her knees and never gotten up again. But she chose to stand. To stand for those children and live life so that they could live theirs. Because they are hers. And she loves them.

Heartache or comfort. Peace or pain. Embarrassment or pride. Support or betrayal. Disappointment or utter joy. Parenting is filled with twists and turns. But you do what you need to do for those children, because they are yours. And you love them.

There is a mother who had no real example of mothering to follow. She navigated the parenting waters as one without a life vest, holding on to anything that could help her to be a better mother. She sometimes embarrassed her children, or sometimes lost her temper, but she parented with a zest for life and a belief that there was no other job in the world more important than the one she was doing in raising her children. She gave the needed shoulder to cry on, and the consequences that were deserved. She showed what it meant to be truly selfless for your children and she continues to do so, breaking the cycle and providing the best example of mothering to follow. And I am grateful for it. Because she is my mom. And I love her.

Printed here with permission. Original post can be found at: http://www.treasuresandtantrums.com/#!and-she-loves-them/c1a1n/572d66200cf2094051e7364f

by Jillian Romriell of treasuresandtantrums (www.treasuresandtantrums.com)

**Thank you Jillian for sharing these powerful stories with us! I am so thankful for each of these woman and the battles they are fighting to stand for something in their lives.  I appreciate you sending this to me when you posted it for Mother's Day, and letting me share it here today.

What makes a woman a mother?

What makes a woman a mother?

A few thoughts on this sunny Mother's Day about the highs and lows of being a mother. What makes a mother? Is it just the process of giving birth? Or is being a woman of creation so much more?!