Truth

Today was an interesting Mother's Day. Usually, on this day, my thoughts are on on my own mother or my experiences as a mom. But today, for some reason, I kept remembering some of the other moms I have met over the years...

When I watched a friend at church interacting with her son's girlfriend (whom she does not particularly care for), with kindness and sincerity, I was reminded of one of my first visits to my ex-husband's mother's house. The first few hours were awkward, but as the evening wore on, I felt like I was making a nice impression on his mother and sisters. Before we went to bed, my ex wrote "S loves Jenni" on the dry erase board on the fridge. At breakfast the next morning, I noticed a "I wish he didn't" penned in underneath. S noticed it too and loudly protested, demanding to know who wrote it. His mother just smirked and told him the choices were not limited.

As I sat stirring a huge pot of homemade spaghetti sauce, this afternoon, I remembered visiting a friend's house in college. His mom decided to make spaghetti for dinner. I watched her boil the pasta and take out a jar of sauce. After adding the sauce to a pan to heat, I watched in horror as she took out a package of Italian sausage and added it raw and whole, casings and all, to the sauce. After cooking it for a very short time, she announced that the spaghetti was ready. She brought the pasta to the table- undrained. When I got up the courage to comment on his mother's meal a few days later, my friend admitted that he had never seen her actually cook anything before.

I played with my daughter's hair, this evening, until she shrugged me off in annoyance. And I thought of the little girl who lives across the street from us. The little girl who spends every free minute with our family. The girl who lives without a mom and lives with a dad who doesn't work. I thought of the time when I played with her hair and how she sat soaking in the love and attention as I poured stories of Jesus' love into her little mind. And I remembered how she looked up at me and said, "Miss Jenn, if someone isn't in your family, can they still call you 'Mom'?"

I thought of all the selfish and careless and stupid and horrific things I've heard of other moms doing.

And I thought of all the little ones without moms. Without the comforting touch, the reassuring voice, the steady shoulder and the gentle wisdom a mother gives.

And as I sit here feeling this tiny new life kicking inside of me, I am overwhelmed by the burden of it all. How can I possibly be the mom that my kids' need? I may not be outwardly cruel, like my exes' mom was. I may not rear my kids on fast-food and take-out alone, like my friend's mom did. I haven't disappeared, like the girl next door's mom did.

But I have been screaming far too often. And I get impatient far too easily. I break promises and forget important events and don't stop to hold them often enough. The last few weeks, in particular, I have been selfish and inwardly focused, and my kids have suffered because of it.

This Mother's Day has not been a celebration of who I am. It's been a reminder of what I never want to be.