We sat brokenhearted and lost inside our small house in our small town. I was 6, my little sister was 3, and mom was 30.
(Don't think I haven't picked up on the fact that I turn 30 this year and Brady turns 6, it haunts my dreams)
Our family of four literally changed to a family of three overnight.
I went to bed a part of a happy, imperfect family of four, and I woke a part of a shattered family of three.
I woke to a house full of somewhat familiar faces and lots of cries.
Once my daddies funeral was over and everyone else went back to their lives, we sat missing one vital piece of our family.
As the tears poured down our faces, I asked my mom to stop crying, just please stop crying.
And she did.
Just like that she stopped crying.
In fact, I never saw her cry again until I moved off to college and showed up the next morning back home claiming I needed more stuff, desperately trying to cover up my tears and fears as I pretended it was everything I thought it would be and I wasn't scared at all.
We both knew.
We both cried.
She fought with every ounce of her being to tell me that I didn't have to go back, that I could just stay home.
I could tell.
I could see the words, the grief, the fear, the desire to comfort and make it all go away building inside her.
Instead she helped me gather up some more stuff and load it into my car. Then with a brave face and a smile she sent me back to Nashville.
I was fine and so was she.
I don't think my sweet mother realizes the beautiful lessons she taught me in these and many other moments.
She taught me to be a mom, well before I felt that first flutter or wiped that tiny nose.
She taught me our hope is above and nothing in this world is bigger or scarier than our God.
She taught me that when life is hard, you wipe the tears, get up and get moving.
She taught me that love is stronger than any grief you might ever experience.
She taught me to love, to be strong, to be weak, to be compassionate, to care, to help, to teach, to lead, to listen, to follow, and so so much more I am still learning.
She is still teaching and loving me. I don't think it will ever stop.
~
As Mother's Day approaches my thoughts have been overcome with thoughts of mothers every where.
I think of the mother who so desperately desires to hold her baby, but is unable to.
I think of the mother who is so filed with joy because her heart and arms are full with squishy cheeks and sweet smiles, maybe for the first time.
I think of the mother who would give her whole life to bear the name.
I think of the mother whose daughter is very much alive, but far away in distance.
I think of the mother who is so tired but so in love with her children that she keeps pressing on.
I think of the mothers with broken lives and deep feelings of guilt eating them away when it comes to their children.
I think of the sons and daughters who so desperately want to pick up the phone or drive down the street to love their mother.
I think of the grandmothers.
I think of the mothers who literally only have love to offer their children.
I think of those very much in the mothering role, but aren't actually given the name.
I think of the mothers who have given up their child for a life much better than they could dream of offering.
I think of the young mothers, the old mothers, the great mothers, and the mothers who have failed.
All I know is that mothers are a chosen, unique group.
They aren't perfect. They aren't super heroes. They aren't well payed. They are overworked. They are under-appreciated. They definitely aren't glamorous. Hello, poopy, vomit, and snot!
But mothers have the most important role in the entire world.
Mothers make the world go around.
Mothers teach.
Mothers lead.
Mothers mold.
Mothers unite.
Mothers love.
No one loves like a mother loves.
I mean who else's proud, knowing, or disappointed stares can transcend all languages, cultures, countries, and demographics, but Momma's.
Happy Mother's Day, friends!
Go love your Momma and thank you for jumping in the messy trenches of motherhood!
(Don't think I haven't picked up on the fact that I turn 30 this year and Brady turns 6, it haunts my dreams)
Our family of four literally changed to a family of three overnight.
I went to bed a part of a happy, imperfect family of four, and I woke a part of a shattered family of three.
I woke to a house full of somewhat familiar faces and lots of cries.
Once my daddies funeral was over and everyone else went back to their lives, we sat missing one vital piece of our family.
As the tears poured down our faces, I asked my mom to stop crying, just please stop crying.
And she did.
Just like that she stopped crying.
We both knew.
We both cried.
She fought with every ounce of her being to tell me that I didn't have to go back, that I could just stay home.
I could tell.
I could see the words, the grief, the fear, the desire to comfort and make it all go away building inside her.
Instead she helped me gather up some more stuff and load it into my car. Then with a brave face and a smile she sent me back to Nashville.
I was fine and so was she.
I don't think my sweet mother realizes the beautiful lessons she taught me in these and many other moments.
She taught me to be a mom, well before I felt that first flutter or wiped that tiny nose.
She taught me our hope is above and nothing in this world is bigger or scarier than our God.
She taught me that when life is hard, you wipe the tears, get up and get moving.
She taught me that love is stronger than any grief you might ever experience.
She taught me to love, to be strong, to be weak, to be compassionate, to care, to help, to teach, to lead, to listen, to follow, and so so much more I am still learning.
She is still teaching and loving me. I don't think it will ever stop.
~
As Mother's Day approaches my thoughts have been overcome with thoughts of mothers every where.
I think of the mother who so desperately desires to hold her baby, but is unable to.
I think of the mother who is so filed with joy because her heart and arms are full with squishy cheeks and sweet smiles, maybe for the first time.
I think of the mother who would give her whole life to bear the name.
I think of the mother whose daughter is very much alive, but far away in distance.
I think of the mother who is so tired but so in love with her children that she keeps pressing on.
I think of the mothers with broken lives and deep feelings of guilt eating them away when it comes to their children.
I think of the sons and daughters who so desperately want to pick up the phone or drive down the street to love their mother.
I think of the grandmothers.
I think of the mothers who literally only have love to offer their children.
I think of those very much in the mothering role, but aren't actually given the name.
I think of the mothers who have given up their child for a life much better than they could dream of offering.
I think of the young mothers, the old mothers, the great mothers, and the mothers who have failed.
All I know is that mothers are a chosen, unique group.
They aren't perfect. They aren't super heroes. They aren't well payed. They are overworked. They are under-appreciated. They definitely aren't glamorous. Hello, poopy, vomit, and snot!
But mothers have the most important role in the entire world.
Mothers make the world go around.
Mothers teach.
Mothers lead.
Mothers mold.
Mothers unite.
Mothers love.
No one loves like a mother loves.
I mean who else's proud, knowing, or disappointed stares can transcend all languages, cultures, countries, and demographics, but Momma's.
Happy Mother's Day, friends!
Go love your Momma and thank you for jumping in the messy trenches of motherhood!
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