Mother's Day 2020
Motherhood used to be anonymous. I daresay it was a mostly hidden journey. Obscure.
On one hand, my young kids could have really benefitted from a smarter-than-me device in my hand. Instead of answering their questions with my go-to, “Let’s ask dad when he gets home,” we could have just Googled. And Lord knows I needed the wisdom of mommy bloggers and Pinterest boards, I just didn’t know it. I could have really used a camera and camcorder in my pocket at all times. Yes, we used to call them camcorders. On the other hand, I was never distracted by the need to capture, crop, edit, filter, post, promote any moments of our unremarkable life.
My life was all about my contribution to the lives of five humans. And church. That was it. That’s what it all boiled down to.
It was a grind, and I was in love with the grind. In many ways, this pandemic has been a time-warp to a simpler way of living. A pre-Enneagram time where we were not intentional-about-our-agency-and-holding-space-for-this-and-that-thing. A call back to when our meals were a far cry from curated or artisan and none of my friends were dabbling in clean taco seasonings, cauliflower pizza crusts or zucchini noodles. An era when we walked around with stark naked nails. No gels or powders. Naked nails.
God used anonymity and obscurity to forge His image on the inside of me. Obscurity was a great mysterious gift where I was fully developed, conformed and transformed. I was free to experience the grace for my own journey not someone else’s. I was free to thrive in my own uniqueness and the uniqueness of my family, to fully become who God designed me to be. Doing things that nobody saw. Giving things that nobody knew about.
The obscure life of motherhood was a work of the Spirit, an unveiling of God’s love and mercy in the hills and valleys. A landscape where He repeatedly showed Himself so near and faithful.
I’m now in the same boat with everyone else. Living life on the socials. And I’m grateful for it. It’s allowed me to share a blog, a space for snapshots, a carpetbag where I dispense little bits and bobs from my world. I wrote a book about how God does not waste one ounce of this human experience. A space to share my intimacy with the impermanence of successes, accomplishments, failures, jail cells, career setbacks and illnesses and how I’ve mostly allowed them to shape me and to know His providence in ways I could not have otherwise known. A place to share manna because I’ve stared helpless at the emptiness of my own stockpile. A place to point others to the anchor of my soul in seasons of distress and abundance.
This no-longer-obscure-space has allowed me to shout His goodness from the rooftops. It has allowed me to serve as an encouragement to women in all seasons of life, one transforming conversation at a time.
Motherhood used to be anonymous and now it’s not. But motherhood has not changed since ages past. We mamas simply love our kids with stupid amounts of love and we are trying the very best we know how.
On this very unique Mother’s Day 2020, take heart, mamas. If your motherhood journey feels dry, may you feel a trickle creeping down dry riverbeds. May Jesus be your one and only source. May you host rivers of living waters.
May you sense his satisfying presence daily. Don’t look for things or people to do only what God can do. The recipe is unchanged. Meditate on scripture, practice the sweet sweet presence of God, listen to the Holy Spirit. Create daily space for moments of silent reflection with a little bit of self-imposed, anonymous obscurity. And for goodness sake, be free to be you. Be free to thrive in your own uniqueness and the uniqueness of your beautiful family. Be free to fully become who God designed you to be. And maybe, just maybe, cover those nails.