As I knelt to the floor

to begin the mission of climbing this laundry pile

that was now on the verge of taking over the entire upstairs landing,

I was struck at my posture.

 

Prayer.

 

Knees bend low,

arms folded in lap.

 

As my arms reached out and to touch the crumpled shirts,

socks,

pants,

and unmentionables,

I realized that here I was,

in the presence of the Holy.

 

Worshipping.

 

I was not in Sunday dress,

only in workout shorts,

hair uncombed,

with babe strapped to my chest.

 

But like Sunday morning,

here I was

offering myself

up in prayer.

 

For from this posture,

I was reoriented to seeing

this dutiful chore,

this never-ending pile,

as burden to blessing.

 

As I bent low,

I realized again that these tasks are really

an offering of love,

an act of gratitude,

to the four blessings in my life.

 

Kneeling in the midst of this holy mountain,

I, like the Israelites,

saw the Presence of God hovering close.

 

Blessings surround and engulf.

There are people who wear these clothes

(and sometimes change multiple times a day),

who wash and dry with these towels,

who sleep in these sheets.

 

Yet still, the Israelites who,

after the amazing spectacle of the Red Sea,

complained and moaned in the desert sun,

and longed for captivity to return.

How could they?

How dare they?

For this people that were led out in miraculous and astonishing ways,

forgot.

They forgot the One who faithfully led them ahead,

to the fullness of blessing and promise.

 

In turn, I pray that I not turn

my daily duties and tasks,

my to-do lists and schedules,

into longings of days before.

For blessings still surround.

Blessings continue to surprise,

and sustain,

even in this period of life that

can often feel like desert wandering.

 

I bend down and kiss the top of my munchkin,

snuggled round and warm,

bound close to my heart.

 

 

And offer thanks,

here on this mountain,

for the ones I fold for.

 

And fold

and fold,

and fold…

 

 

I’ve done a lot of jobs in my life.  

Traditional ones like:  5th grade teacher, minister, writer.

And not so traditional ones like:  basket-weaver instructor, custodian, commercial voice-overs (I kid you not, I have done each and every one of these).

And yet, my vocation as a mother continues to stretch me and shape me and mold me and somedays, squash me, more than any of these jobs ever have.

As we’ve all heard:  being a mother is the toughest job in the world.

Ummm, yes.

Don’t get me wrong.  I don’t mean to complain.

Which I am not.

I love my darlings (even though I love them maybe just a teeny bit more when they are sweetly in dreamland) to the moon and back.

And then some.

However, with the inclusion of our most beautiful new addition of Zachary, I’ve realized in a new way at how things are just amped up…that much more.

With Owen, I could more-or-less wing it.

With Connor, pre-planning was in order.  Diaper bag?  Check.

With Zach-Attack, I’m making list after list, yet without fail there is always someone that can’t seem to find their shoes as we are walking out the door.

But what really stands out to me with three is not so much the enormous piles of laundry that mount every evening, nor the newly acquired go-go-gadget arms that have sprouted on me to keep my sprawling brood safe in the parking lots,

but the lack of personal time.

And I’m not just talking about prayer, bible reading or prayer;

but more earthy aspects like a shower,

sitting down for a moment with an empty lap,

or listening to news radio in the car.

Yes, the “me” time has shrunk significantly.

I’m realizing however, as a mother,

in order to create “me,”

I have to take out “other.”

MothEr

Now, hear me out now.

Yes, I know that I am still a woman with gifts and dreams and visions, and the need for personal hygiene.

Yes,  I realize and have not lost track that I need to (and do! on regular occasions) spend time with friends, Shawn, and working on my own personal projects.  I do attempt to find balance and space and I am grateful for the refocus and rejuvenation it brings to my work at home.

So hold your horses before you get all crazy on me. 

What I’m talking about it how with including a new baby in the mix, the freedom part of my life (because three year olds and five year olds can go awhile doing independent play while I get a few things done)

is

gone.

Sayonara.

Zip.

Zilch.

Nada.

For now. (This is the good perspective I have after having a few chicks under my wing–I know about stages and that this will go by all too quickly. Somedays, I can only whisper, thank God for this!)

Yet, within this intense season of caring for a newbie, where “me” just has to take a backseat,

because between feeding, diapering, and stimulating,

I still have two others that claw out for me during this time.

Things haven’t just changed for me.

It has drastically shifted for them as well. 

“Mommy’s feeding Zach, I’ll help you in a minute.”

“Mommy’s changing Zach, I’ll read you that book when I’m finished.”

So I don’t fault them when I hear,

“Put Zach back in your belly.”

“Leave Zach in the house and let’s go somewhere in the car.”

Adjustment issues?  

Just a few…!

And in the brief moment when the babe is fed, clean, and zonked out,

there are usually two big brown eyes that greet me when I turn around.

Do I put them off…again?

MOTHER

or

ME?

Of course it is not either or,

but if often feels like it.

It happened again today.  

Play with me?

Play with me now?

But oh the piles of laundry, dishes, emails…or let’s be real—coffee to drink…

I turn and sit.

We play trains.

Rounding and rounding the tracks.

Crash.

Derail.

Laughter.

I forgot that sound.

Laughter–it feels good.

The brown eyed one turns and reaching out with his grubby hand touches my cheek,

“Mom, I love playing with you.” 

Was it worth it?

Was it worth plucking a bit more of me today,

which in the grand view is only a blip on the screen,

to speak my precious babe’s love language?

Always.

So today, I choose

MOTHER,

because there are always gifts found that surprise,

and

sustain

me.

 

As I sat in Starbucks this past Monday looking out the window,

I smiled and shook my head with a laugh.

Because really, what was the alternative?

Cry?

Hide my face in embarrassment?

Wallow in self-pity?

(But I mean, how much self-pity could I even muster, as it was my choice to brave the elements and re-enter the world. You bring it on yourself, sister, even if coffee is at this point in a life a need, not a want.)

Here was I entertaining a three-year old,

drunk with chocolate milk,

nursing a three-week old baby who just minutes ago wailing with the injustice of needing to wait for his.

As I sat with my coffee in hand, I had to laugh at the sheer outrageous antics that happened moments before.

Babe screaming, toddler bouncing around, balancing coffee cups, yogurt containers, cinnamon-swirl coffee cake, napkins, a car carrier (that weighs close to a ton), diaper bag, cell phone ringing,

ringing,

ringing.

It was a circus act.

Then once we found our seat, the request to “go poop,” was made known.

Now.

I need to go poop now.

Of course.

Sheer circus act, I tell you.

Once we got back and settled in our corner velvet seats, which section was now completely vacated by Mac users and newspaper readers, due to our train-wreck of an entrance,

I heard it.

Superwoman by Alicia Keys was playing over the loudspeaker.

Looking out the window, I laughed out loud.

Did I feel like Superwoman, in this moment?

Not a chance.

But as I listened to the song,

I reflected on the gift of the present moment.

The sweetness of a mom and her two sons sharing an outing together.

I reflected on my state of being in the moment,

finding myself surprised at my calmness of spirit,

and ability to find joy and hilarity

in the mist of this three-ring show.

Many of you have been so sweet to me telling me how wonderful I look, and how put together I seem, and how much I seem to be able to do for just having a baby a 25 days ago.

How do I do it?

Superwoman, perhaps?

I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your kindness and can only say that I am where I am today,

is because of the testament to the cloud of witnesses that surround me–

the Supermen and Superwomen in my life that have used their powers to:

feed us delicious meals (and after 25 days we are still counting),

clean for us (I don’t know what I’d do without my Mom and husband),

pray for us,

visit us,

the list of support goes on…

Community surrounds and sustains.

I can scarcely fathom how I could even muster the energy and sanity to attempt an in-house Starbucks run with my toddler and newbie without a huge backing by my sisters and brothers.

I am only a Superwoman because of the superpowers that surround me.

And that is the truth.

The gift of community far exceeds the power of the individual and I would be so remiss if to take the credit for seeming “so put together,’ myself.

Because there are so many moments when showering seems like Mt. Everest to climb, let alone get everyone dressed, hair-brushed, shoes on, and out the door by 8:45am. Coupled with where pray-tell am I going to find the brain energy to write?

Sweet Jesus, come.

A phone-call “checking in” brings joy for this journey.

An empty dishwasher eases the morning transition.

Food that feeds us for multiple meals allow me to be present to my family.

A hug and word of encouragement breathes peace.

The power of the community upholds and creates Supermen/women out of us all.

What a blessing.

No matter the joys or the trials,

the hair-raising or hair-pulling,

I have the courage and security to fully engage in this world,

because I know someone has my back.

Always.

Even if it is to laugh with me in sharing in the absurdity that life with little kiddos can bring.

As I sat in that back corner, a woman came up to me, braving the hoopla, and looking me clear in the eyes and said, “You have a beautiful family.”

I thanked her and with a genuine smile thought,

“Yes, I do, I really do,”

as the Superwoman melody rang in my ears.

Who is your community?  In what ways have you felt supported/upheld by them?  How are you supporting/upholding others?  If you don’t have a “cloud of witnesses” what are some ways you can go about to create one?