One Mother’s Sacred Mess

A friend posted on social media yesterday about how motherhood is sacred, even holy. And that thought's lingered with me.

My family started off Mother’s Day by participating together with an online church service, teenagers scowling on the couch, eyelids half open, as freshly baked cinnamon rolls and bacon turned cold. I sipped my coffee, quieting my heart, praying silently.

The conclusion of our online church service brought rousing conversation from one teen while another warm-heartedly passed me a card and a gift, my husband offered a bouquet of flowers he’d somehow miraculously procured during lockdown.

Then our disgruntled teen stomped from the room, more important things to attend to. Tempted to nurse my wounded momma-heart, I sent an “arrow prayer” for the tender-hearted, thoughtful mind that just needed some space.

Our Mother’s Day afternoon at my parents brought more not-going-as-we-planned scenarios mixed in with the pure joy of just seeing one another and lingering without any need-to-be-somewhere-else-by-a-certain-time pressure. The messiness and chaos undergirded by unconditional love, a stabilizing force noiselessly providing life.

When I think of my mom, my grandmas, and many other women who are role models, I easily see the sacredness amidst the chaos, how love poured out into the messiness gives life and meaning every day. All the unspoken love these moms and grandmas, would-be moms and role models give away for me and so many others.

When I look at my motherhood though, I struggle with my glaring failure, fearing its impact on my children. I struggle to see the holiness in what I do, the day-in and day-out shopping for groceries, preparing meals, running errands, trying to anticipate needs, eagerly listening when teens finally open up, learning to hold my tongue and control my shock.

Understanding the sacred in the ordinary transforms perspective, infuses effort with new courage, renews hope for us all as we are dynamic souls sometimes failing, sometimes succeeding.

In our transparent mess and sincere attempts, we make life-giving connections that help us grow. We say “sorry, will you forgive me?” and mean it, clear eyes and an honest hug wrapping up an offense, transparency dispelling blurriness.

I know my own mom has sacrificed much - sleep and rest when she was tired or sick because I needed her, what she wanted to do in order to be available for me, some peace and quiet when she needed to temper my tantrums. But I think the best sacrifice she’s made is giving her heart fully to God and demonstrating a life lived for Him.

An ancient prophet who married a prostitute recorded this revelation to express God’s heart: “I’m after love that lasts, not more religion. I want you to know God, not go to more prayer meetings.” (The Message)

The God of the universe is really only looking for humble hearts – and sometimes that kind of humility costs a lot and often it shows itself in the everyday messiness of motherhood.

Yes, I’d have to agree that motherhood, with all its mess, is sacred and holy.