I wrote this a while back for my friend, Glennon. And after last week’s series of posts sharing some of my back stories, I thought of this one. And I wanted to share it here. Because it’s me in a nutshell. And maybe you too?
If there’s one thing I’d like to let you in on, it’s this:
I was the girl who swore she’d never end up anyone’s cliche — barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. Which is interesting since we currently have three kids, a hamster and a back yard where toys go to die.
I grew up in South Africa, where the streets turn Jacaranda purple in October and we take our tea hot with milk and sugar, and I hadn’t turned 18 yet when I swore I didn’t plan to be anyone’s mother.
It was after my mom had been in hospital for about nine months and the pastor’s son was over and caught me trying to figure out how to cook dinner for my kid brothers. I was barefoot. And in the kitchen.
I remember how the late afternoon sunshine was coming in at the window and I had my mom’s wooden cutting board out – the one with the pot burns blackened into its surface. We’d been living on takeout, dad was burned out from the hourly evening commutes to the hospital, and that night I was chopping onions to get a real meal started instead.
But William laughed at me and I promised myself I’d grow up to do something big and brave and important.
For a while I did.
After my mom died. After I went to college. After I graduated law school. After I told the boy I was in love with that I needed him to marry me and not my ability to have kids. And he did. There was a while when I felt significant in all the ways that I thought were the opposite of helping someone finish his homework or someone else root through the piles of laundry for clean undies.
I was a legal specialist in Ukraine and we fought human trafficking with gritted teeth and bared hearts and our guts tied up in knots. It was awful and incredible and necessary and there are things I will always wish I could un-see.
That’s the part I need you to know because it’s what makes being a mother to three kids so surprising to me.
I turned 30 in Ukraine. And by the time I turned 31 we would be back living in South Africa after a decade away. And I would give birth to our first born three days later.
Here’s what I learned in between.
Here’s what I want you to hear. Especially you, if you’re wondering how life turned out like this, if you feel lost in your own story and looking for a way out.
If you’re up to your eyeballs in kids and under the weather and desperate for the laundry to cut you some slack.
If you’re gasping for breath and wrestling worries and bills and sweating the end of year report cards.
If you can’t bear to come up with one more way to cook chicken.
If you’re short on sleep and high on impatience.
If you feel small or invisible or like you are slowly fading away.
Can I just slip my shoes off, slide over on the sofa and tell you this: I believe God sees you. I believe God cheers you. I believe your work is holy ground and I am proud to stand here barefoot beside you.
I am convinced that the God who made you, sculpted you, loved you into being considers your story just as important as the work of rescuing women from the slums in Kenya or the traffickers in Ukraine.
Even on the days when no one knows what you did. Maybe most especially on those days. When there are no awards or headlines or standing ovations. I believe that the God who began this work in and through you will carry it, and you if necessary, across the finish line.
And that He understands tired. He gets needing space. He’s lived the burnout of too many demanding hands all tugging at the same time. This Jesus-brother-human-maker who on the day when “so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat,” said to his friends, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”
Ain’t no shame in those days, friends.
Nope, I think those are the holy days. The scars-worn-bravely days.
So, on those days, dear friends, dish up an extra bowl of ice cream and repeat after me:
I am stretched and tired and fearful.
I am wild and brave and broken.
But this one life is on purpose and it’s not by accident where I woke up this morning.
While my closet has a sense of humor and clothes in every size,
my story is richer and fuller for it.
I’ve worn these hips around the labor and delivery dance and they are not ashamed.
I have lost it, yelled it, fought it, cried it and apologized it all before 9am.
I have finger painted, caffeinated, and run out of explanations for a line of why questions that stretches around the living room, out the front door and around the block.
I have tripped on Legos, stepped on scooters, slept on bottom bunks, and strung yards of white, twinkling lights to ward off the dark and their bad dreams.
I have been woken up, shaken up, thrown up, loved up, and shut up. I have never quite, completely, ever given up.
Love sleeps in my bed. Curiosity eats at my table. Delight runs laps around my back yard. Exhaustion is a faithful friend. But so is grace.
If I started tonight and counted backwards all the gifts of this wild and furious season I would still be counting when the grandchildren were standing on tippy toes with noses pressed against these same smudged windows.
So I count dimples instead.
And piles of stray socks and jeans with knees missing and shoes that only fit for a few months and hair cuts and loose teeth and how many times I look at them and say with the disbelief of the proud, “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown!”
I am overwhelmed, infatuated, love struck and completely unhinged. Especially on the nights they bring in wild flowers and all the ever-loving mud in the world.
I am full and fulfilled.
I am older and comfortable in my skin.
I am about the work of raising tiny humans.
I am out of my mind and in my calling and desperate for five minutes alone and a lifetime together.
I want to stop time, tame my fears, bottle their dreams, live a hundred summers of dripping, sticky, chocolate swirl ice cream. And in between I hang onto my faith, my temper, and my sense of humor with my fingernails.
These are the good days, the glory days, the slow-as-molasses days. These are the fast years, the wonder years, the how-do-I-find-words years.
But we do. They usually start with “help” and end with “thank you” and the middle?
The middle is a thick layer of reliable wonder sometimes whispered, often shouted, always answered.
The middle is me. The middle is you. The middle is just this one, sacred, take-off-your-shoes-worthy syllable,
the middle is
“mom.”
{last photo by Mallory MacDonald}
I love this perspective ! Love it! The experience of raising children has made me a deeper person, and has given me so much more to give others. They are a gift in more ways than we can ever imagine! I may have raised them, but they have taught me more than I could ever teach them!
Grace to you!
You write so beautifully and I am so encouraged by your words. Thank you for following God and encouraging us moms. I am stay at home mom to 4.5 year old girl, 3 year boy, and 14 mos old girl. Everyday feels stuck on repeat for me lately. I’m worn but at the same time these days are priceless. I’m so thankful and your words spoke to me at just the right time. God bless you and your family!
I love this post! I am a working mom that gets overwhelmed sometimes by the “groundhog day-ness” (is that a word??) of it all, but in the end I LOVE everything about being a mom, a wife and a business owner. I love your blog and your honestly in writing things that we are all feeling. Thank you!!
I think it’s interesting that moms who work outside the home and stay-at-home moms both feel this way. Sometimes we think if we just changed up our circumstances, we’d feel differently. I don’t think that would make a difference.
Girl, you are probably 100% right!
It like we expect every day of our lives to be like a movie, something new and exciting! But the way God writes stories is like a book, not a movie. It takes longer to get through the story, but, as you’ve heard, “the book is always better than the movie,” because books require more time to make and more time to read, which makes for a richer experience overall. Each of our days is like an individual word in the book, which in turn make up long streams of words that make up each chapter of our lives. Not every WORD is exciting, not every word is beautiful, but each CHAPTER is. And, if we obey God, all the chapters together will make up a good book of a life well lived. And that is a great legacy for this little people to have someday — what could be better than that?
Now if we could only remember that in the moments we want “five minutes alone!” right?
So very much, totally, absolutely, needed this message. Thank you.
“Scars worn bravely” Yes, Yes, and YES!
I think it would do my soul well to read this post every day. You write the words of my heart. Especially this: “I am out of my mind and in my calling and desperate for five minutes alone and a lifetime together.” It is so comforting to have someone echo, articulate the very joy and struggle you live every day.
I am desperately yearning for those “five minutes alone” right now. But I’m out of my mind excited because in two weeks God is blessing me with not just five minutes, but FOUR KID-FREE DAYS, to soak up time with Him and soul sisters….that’s right, I’m going to ALLUME!! Hope to be able to meet you, Lisa-Jo, so I can tell you in person how deeply I appreciate you and have been encouraged and inspired by your word-gifts on this blog.
Thanks for this message. Your life sounds a lot like mine in some ways – former lawyer! I am now home with the kids and often find myself wondering, how did I get to here? Thanks for this positive and inspirational message.
So lovely. Thank you for sharing.And motherhood might be kicking my butt most days but I smile and try to laugh and not give up. I will never give up! Even when my 4 year old barfed hard boiled eggs all the way down my shirt.
Hi Lisa,
I am way past those days but I love how you encourage Moms, the most important job in the world!! As a former Kindergarten teacher, I recognize you, love you and am thankful for you. Moms that love,love their children in the midst of all the daily stuff it involves. Blessings and know Jesus is right there with you,
Irene
Thank you so much for this inspirational piece.
Hi,
After reading your post I’m just about to cry …. my name is Daniela I live in Italy … I have 3girls , a full time job in another city so I commute every day…. and when I come back home there are dance classes , swim lessons , music lessons , homeworks …. I’m happy, tired, sad , mad and then happy again all in the same day….
Every day….
Thank you for your kind words …. Thank you with all my heart
Thank you so much for this post, it spoke so directly to me. It has identified things in my life that I hadn’t been able to until this point, and let me recognise both the frustrations and the joys, and to understand I am not alone, and that it is ok and normal to feel all these things. Thank you again.
Lovely. This is just lovely.
Thank you.
Lisa-Jo, I love this. I was reminded of a book written by a woman in the UK called Barefoot in the Kitchen by Allie Stibbe. We are on holy ground, sticky and messy but holy. Thanks for this beautiful post.
Blessings
Mel from Essential Thing Devotions
As the mother of 4, I have lived your story for almost 21 years to date. Although I fiercely love my children and being with them, I, like you, wasted so many days waiting, longingly, for MY life to begin. For MY turn to do BIG things, to make a difference, not just wipe noses and sinks, put on 40+ birthday parties, make them clean their rooms kicking and screaming one more time…After all, I am really smart, have a master’s degree, and have been more than capable at any job I have ever had…How could God choose to “waste” all that ability and potential just folding laundry and losing my temper? Sigh. And now I look at my oldest two boys…in college, in love with God, kind, happy and handsome and healthy and looking to do BIG things…and I realize I have been doing BIG things all along. And somehow I missed it. What a waste to miss the precious gift I had been given. But thank God I still have today, and my youngest is only in 6th grade. And you better believe I’m not missing it any more.
” scars worn so bravely”…yes, yes.
And this, that one day we will sit down with our adult children, who call you jailer with kit-gloved hands turned Life Coach, and say, “Thank you, for putting your heart in harm’s way.” The words might never come full-out, but the relationship will let you know,… and you will say, “it was all, so very worth it!”
Love you, Girl!
Thank you for this, Lisa-Jo. Yesterday was nuts, so I’m just now reading it this morning….but God knew this was when I’d need it most. Yesterday was a day when I was caught up in the demands of daily life, with extreme frustration over a home school curriculum that is drudgery for my kids and myself! I am worn down and wanted to stay under the covers rather than face this day….until I read this. Thank you a thousand times over for sharing from your heart in order to touch this tired heart of mine.
You have no idea how perfect the timing of this is. And I shared on Facebook, again, making this the 3rd or 4th time.
And for what it’s worth, I like this title much better than the original. It works better, I think it fits better.
But, either way, the content is worth being tattooed backwards on my forehead, so I can remember the truth woven into it every time I look in the mirror, instead of the bags under my eyes.
Thank you, Friend. Be sure to put some whipped cream on that bowl of ice cream today!
I posted this in response to another’s comment on this thread, but I think I’ll post it here for you too, Lisa-Jo.:
It like we expect every day of our lives to be like a movie, something new and exciting! But the way God writes stories is like a book, not a movie. It takes longer to get through the story, but, as you’ve heard, “the book is always better than the movie,” because books require more time to make and more time to read, which makes for a richer experience overall. Each of our days is like an individual word in the book, which in turn make up long streams of words that make up each chapter of our lives. Not every WORD is exciting, not every word is beautiful, but each CHAPTER is. And, if we obey God, all the chapters together will make up a good book of a life well lived. And that is a great legacy for this little people to have someday — what could be better than that?
Now if we could only remember that in the moments we want “five minutes alone!” right?
Wow! I LOVED this!!! Thank you so much for your honesty. It really encouraged me :-) xx
This post is so beautiful! Although with one in college and two others teetering on the edge of teenhood, I can still relate to this post. Being mama, even if they can fix their own breakfast in the mornings and get themselves dressed, is still a hard job in any stage our children go through. I homeschool my boys and often crave the need for “my space.” I have also felt the pangs of guilt for that. Thank you for saying, “There ain’t no shame in that.” I needed to hear it.
Oh, you just can’t know how much my heart needed these words on this morning. It’s a weary one for me – feeling stuck on repeat just as you’ve so beautifully described. Thank you for sharing your heart and touching mine. xxoo
you make me smile…cry a little..but ALWAYS smile…THANK YOU
Love this. Cannot even thank you enough. So ministered to my soul!
I needed that today. This week. This year! Just when I think I am over grieving for what I gave up for being here again, it hits me hard. So thank you.
well said lisa-jo – loved and shared – thank you!
I just read this and started crying about 3 lines in and teared my way through the rest. I think you might have written this just for me and all I can really think to say right now is Thank you.
I don’t even have words for the tears that came with this post. To have someone to tell me that the ground I’m walking on…the potty-training disasters, laundry piles, saggy stretch marks, tantrum-management, and whole days passed without showering…is holy ground. My world feels so small. My prayers are toddler-sized and about as eloquent and I don’t know when I blinked and ended up in this life. Thank you for your bravery in this series of posts!
Wow. That’s all. Just WOW. Oh, and thank you.
This really spoke to me. Thank you♥
Thank you for this one Lisa. I woke up exhausted today and my little one is only 11 months old. I am a working mom; I am proud to call myself a mom. But on days like this, all I really want to do is snuggle with my Emily and take a nice long fall nap. Not sit behind desk for eight hours. But I am here. And I am glad I do have a job in some ways. But at this very moment, all I want to do is sleep. I see a five minute cat nap on the horizen.
Lisa, thank you! Your blogs have been such an encouragement to me. I cried reading this. I am so burnt out right one and hanging on to Jesus. My daughter pointed out your blog to me in Sept after putting my youngest 5 children in public school after 20 years of home schooling. I am learning grace. Thank you so much for your encouragement for being a mom. God bless you.
So good! Thank you!
So poignant and real and true. There were so many things I wanted to BE when I grew up. But out of all I have done, nothing has been better than being Mom. Thank you for writing this.
A friend e-mailed me a link to this article saying it was an “encouraging word”, and it definitely is. I am a Mama of 7 children, with one more due in a month. And I am not sure if it is just the hormones, but I have been struggling a bit lately and after reading your article I feel very encouraged. It was beautifully written, fun to read, and Spirit led. After reading it and having a good cry (and I am not a very emotional person), I feel much better. Now, I can even delight in going and facing 7 very rambunctious, stuck inside, cabin fever-driven children (we live in Minnesota-too cold to go out). So, thank you for your encouraging words and for you lovely obedience to our amazing Father, Creator, God! Blessings to you and your family!
I love you, thank you for these words.