Motherhood has been good to me.
I started early at 19. But I was so ready for it and blessed that God had allowed me to conceive and birth a child. At 19, I didn’t realize how hard that is for millions of women around the world. I didn’t take it for granted. Over the years of raising my daughter, and nine years later, my son, I thanked God for His provision in my life and covering my children.
I remember testifying one Sunday in church about how good God had been to me. I’d raised my children, primarily, as a single mother although I was married twice to their father and then my late husband. Unfortunately, though, neither of them were very helpful in crux of parenting. By that I mean, I was the one responsible for transportation to and from school, doctor appointments, emergency visits, extra-curricular activities, the birds & the bees talk, assigning chores, transporting to part-time jobs, disciplining, homework, college planning. All that! But the consistency with which God showed up in my life, I never considered it a struggle.
That doesn’t mean, however, that it was easy breezy. Parenting is parenting. The hardest and most important, and most rewarding job I would ever have. I made the sacrifices I considered necessary. Partially to make it easier for my support system of my family to help me. Partially because I wanted to be as available to my children as my mother had been to myself and my siblings when we were growing up.
My mother said something profound to me that her mother said to her. I don’t know if I was sharing my life goals with her or complaining about the overtime I was missing out on at my job at the time. But she said said my grandmother told her, “Your children won’t always be little.”
Of course, when they are little, you can’t see that far ahead. You just see the right now. But not too long ago, when I realized that I have a 26 year old and a 17 year old, those words resurfaced in my mind. And I was, wow, where did that time go?
My daughter is off on her own with a husband and baby, and, though, my 17 year old son is still in high school, he’s kind of doing his own thing.
I hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about when this time in my life would come. But, I sure hadn’t expected to be a widow when I was entering the empty nest phase of my life. Nevertheless, I’m enjoying this space of time in my life.
I love that I can go on vacations with friends without having plan babysitting for my children. I love that I can pay for a membership to a Pilates class, that ten years ago, I would have swore was too much. I love that I can splurge on a private Hot Yoga class, if I want to. I also love that I can sleep in on my Saturdays because my son can drive himself to Saturday morning bowling league.
This is a good feeling. While I know that parenting never truly ends, the declining level of responsibility that develops over time is to be appreciated.
On this Mother’s Day, I’m celebrating my mother’s unwavering support and love of me and my children in the early years of parenting and right now. I’m celebrating God’s grace and ever-presence in mine and my children’s lives. And I’m celebrating me because…
I DID THAT!