I didn’t know.
I didn’t know how hard it must have been. Until I had three babes of my own, I didn’t know how exhausting it is to go for months on end without one solid night of sleep. I didn’t know how even the sweetest chatter and the most innocent questions, when incessant from dawn till dusk, can threaten someone’s sanity. I didn’t know that the fear of being buried alive by an ever-growing laundry pile is a real thing. I didn’t know how daily responsibilities like cleaning and paying bills and always and forever feeding little people could fill up the day until you realize that is all you did today.
I know you must have felt those things too. But when I look back at my childhood, I do not remember the you that was tired or frustrated by life with three kids. I remember the you that always had a silly song in the morning and a special nickname for each of us. I remember the you that listened to my never-ending chatter with a smile. I remember the you that created special little traditions like having sausage and cheese balls on Groundhog Day, or green grits and green eggs on St. Patrick’s Day. I remember the you that always reminded me as I walked out the door as a teenager, “Remember who you are and whose you are…”
So I’m trying to do that still. I’m trying to remember that I am equipped for this task, that I have everything I need for life and godliness, that I can do all things who Him who gives me strength. I’m trying to remember your favorite question, “Is is going to matter in eternity?” as I fill up my days. I’m trying to remember that I am chosen for this task, and that if at the end of the day I have loved well, then that is enough.
I’m sure at times you felt like a failure. I feel it so acutely myself now. But seeing God’s faithfulness in your life, His strength in your weakness, and the simplicity of providing a home that made us feel safe and loved, gives me hope and courage.
When I was young, you were my mom. Now, you are my hero. I love you a million, a thousand, and six!