The Faces of Motherhood

I stumbled upon these half-written reflections that began on Mother's Day. My life is littered with unfinished projects, so in a rare burst of determination I decided to circle back and finish this one. Some of you may find kinship here.



Sometimes the doing takes hold so hard that quiet moments drag me off to some mindless distraction. Today, the distraction dragged me back to mindfulness. Even social media can be the all things that are worked together for good. Wonder of wonders.

As I scrolled through my Facebook newsfeed, I was struck by the many faces of motherhood. Women cradling newborns, tales of sleepless nights and toddler antics, bedside hospital vigils, celebrating plays and proms. So many snapshots and shared thoughts that reminded me of my journey as Mom. So many seasons - all of them simultaneously happy, hard, wondrous, tedious, heart-wrenching, mind-stretching, and somehow good for my soul by the mystery of the unseen Hand that held me.

Soon I was nudged back to real-time by tears painting picture upon picture across my older, life-worn face. Tears that longed for the simpler, exhausting days gone by. Streaks that celebrated the joys, mourned the griefs - some yet raw. Tears that declared I've not yet found a place of peace in the so-called empty nest season...

...mostly due to the unexpected season: watching our own moms, and others, age in ways that we celebrate, but also in ways that keep me up at night once again - anxious, wringing hands grasping for elusive wisdom. Who knew the same uncertainty that gripped those long ago firsts would resurface in caring for the generation who raised us?

What I once pictured as carefree, possibility-full days of walking alongside my kids and grandkids has been fraught with cares and dreams deferred. I wrestle to lay down my vision of this season. There's no grace in how it's looked - this struggle - but much grace surrounding me in it. I am trying to find stillness in this storm, to soak up mercy, comfort, wisdom, love.

Who am I in all this? What can I hope for and work toward? Questions that took flight even as our first child married have had no space or length of time to land as I've bounced from one major life event - or crisis - to another these past several years.

Who am I? How do I fit, how does the rest of life fit, in to the new normal of caregiver in perpetuity, for that is how it often feels: never-ending. In part, this is who I am, what I do well, what I'm called to in this season. But the responsibility overwhelms at times, and I am clumsily learning to navigate, delegate, and find healthy boundaries, instead of mentally curling up and giving up.

This is my face today. Acknowledging the joys and sorrows, the struggles, fears, confusion, clarity. So often trying to hide the weariness, anxiety, depression. Confessing the resentment and sad state of a malnourished soul, but lifting a chin to look up, and leaning an over-weighted shoulder into my Savior once more.

This has always been the face of motherhood for me.