For Every Mom Who’s Died a Thousand Deaths (Five-Minute-Friday)

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dreamstimefree_247783 Motherhood is a daily invitation to die.

Those weren’t exactly the words I was hoping to hear that day in the grocery store when my toddler was whining about the box of Captain Crunch I’d vetoed. And the preschooler was dancing dangerously close to the tower of toilet paper stacked tall at the aisle’s end. And the baby was wailing hungry in the shopping cart.

I was used to well-meaning grandmas stopping me as I shuffled by with my circus and telling me how quickly the years would disappear.

And I always counted on the kind-hearted cashier winking at me over the cash register as my little shoppers begged for candy and then reminding me with a grin that children are a gift from God.

But talk of daily death wasn’t a part of my normal Monday-morning grocery routine.

Yet, the one who had said it had looked at me with such a tenderness and compassion that I’d stopped right there in the middle of aisle seven, and I’d let her wrap her soft arm around my weary shoulder.

She was the mother who had raised four godly boys and had shaped hundreds of others. 

I was the mom who was four children and one decade into parenting and still wondered how my heart could feel so empty when my hands were so full.

 She was the mother whose eyes sparkled with joy deep and sure.

I was the mom whose eyes burned red with fatigue and frustration.

She was the mother who laughed easy and hugged firm. 

I was the mom who brimmed tears and battled discontent, the mom whose greatest fantasy was just to crawl into bed and stay there for 1000 days.

Or until the crying stopped.

The baby’s or mine. Or both.

She was the mother who had already died a thousand deaths.

mother-with-baby-mdI was the mom who was tired of dying.

Tired of chasing toddlers instead of chasing my dreams.

Tired of writing grocery lists instead of penning inspiring words.

Tired of wiping skid marks of off baby bottoms instead of leaving my mark on the world.

Tired of packing diaper bags instead of vacation bags.

Tired of cutting forty little dirty toenails instead of painting mine.

Tired of Disney films instead of chic flicks.

Tired of happy meals instead of candlelight dinners.

Tired of working in the kitchen instead of working out.

Tired of one day blurring into the next.

But there she was in front of me, this woman  full of life, one who’d walked the road I was walking and still had a skip in her step; 

One who’d given more than she’d taken. Still, she overflowed.

And though I felt like every passion inside of me had died, a flicker of desire sparked somewhere deep within, and I couldn’t put words to the longing in my bones, but I knew this:

I wanted what she had.

After she’d kissed the baby and danced with my preschooler, she’d stepped back and cast me a tender gaze, and then she’d  asked what she could do for me on that melancholy Monday morning.

I nearly missed the gift that followed.

I’d flashed her a fake smile,  murmured, “I don’t need anything. I’m fine….”

But then a stray tear had zig-zagged down my cheek and she knew. 

I’d dropped my head and stared at my scuffed-up shoes.

Finally, I’d  whispered small and desperate, “Could you just pray?

She’d nodded graciously, like I was the one who had just given the gift. 

And that mama of four handsome boys who’d been raised to chase God-sized dreams had smiled a radiant smile and scooped up the toddler spinning circles around us and wiped the baby’s nose with the corner of her own sleeve. 

And then she’d pulled me close, and I’d let her hold me right there in the middle of the grocery store while shoppers compared the price of cereal and chatted about the snow in the forecast.

And this woman who had died a thousand deaths whispered words of life that fanned a smoldering flame deep in my soul.

praying_hands_clip_art_18373Father,

Hold this sweet mommy in your arms and give her Your joy.

Renew her strength and give her courage to die to self so that Christ may live large in her.

Keep her from growing weary. Whisper words of love in her ear.

Tell her she is beautiful. Show her You are faithful.

And may the seeds she plants as she lays herself down grow bigger and better than all of the dreams she’s dared to dream.

For your glory, Father. For your glory.

When she’d finished the prayer, the baby was crying again. My toddler had pulled off her shoes and my preschooler was tugging at my arm doing the gotta-go-potty dance.

But I’d felt something stirring way down inside of that dry and discouraged heart of mine.

Or maybe it was something dying so that new life could bloom.

She’d hugged me once more and headed toward the check-out line, the wheels on her cart squeaking a happy tune.

I’d jostled the baby in my arms, bent down to rescue the pacifier from the filthy grocery store floor, and I’d wondered if I could learn to bow low so that His glory could rise.

“Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you’ll have it forever, real and eternal.” -John 12:24-25

*Finally finding my way back to my  Five Minute Friday friends at Kate’s with today’s prompt HOLD.

Alicia

14 Comments

  1. anonymous says:

    I see your devotions on P31 sometimes and today, I happened to read this article and I wished that someone would encourage me. I am so tired, physically, emotionally, spiritually and I have prayed for my boys to be passionate about God, yet I don’t see the Spirits fruit in their lives and young tho they are, they both claim Jesus as Savior, yet seem resistant to spiritual things and it breaks my heart. I don’t have any experiences of encouragement like you shared. I know Jesus is with me, yet as I write the tears of loneliness and discouragement run down my face. I also have a big problem in my marriage and I’m afraid that the tension that so often rises is affecting my boys more than I realize. I try to pray and have devotions but sometimes HE seems far away. I’m trying, really, to learn to be strong in Him and to endure and be patient though I’ve prayed for 7-8 years for my marriage and 6 years of health issues for me. I love Jesus, my kids, my husband, yet the discouragement is getting me down. Keep writing, you are a help and a breath of fresh air. The verses and stories are needed so much. Thank you for writing and being open and honest. May God bless you, and may I rise above this cloud of depression.

  2. Cindy Portteus says:

    I promise that someday you will remember every frustration and every tear with a smile. I promise.

  3. I needed to read this today. I feel so frazzled and worn lately, and this confirms so much that God has placed on my heart. Thanks for sharing this.

  4. I just read this tonight (Monday). It was not a good day at school and this gives me hope. Thank for the phone call, dear friend. Just when life seems to almost completely crumble, you come to me with words of hope and grace. Thanks!

    1. Alicia Bruxvoort says:

      Oh, how I wish those words could be delivered with a hot cup of chai and a hug! Miss you, friend. Jesus lives large in you!

    2. Charles Jeune homme du sud de la France soiahitaut annoncer a ce canon mature, que je suis totalement disposé a offrir plus que mon opinion. A bon entendeur. Bises coquines, Charles.

    3. Ah yes Father, but what of those canonised by acclamation, rather by the binding of Peter, especially those no longer in the Martyrology? What about Eastern saints?To say nothing about those dog headed and giant Saints or the thousands of companions of virgin martyrs? Then of course there are those Celtic Saints who have strange likenes to the old gods and heroes.

    4. bekommen arbeitslose einen kredit says:

      Obama is like Willie Loman…if someone had promoted Willie to CEO the company without any of the normal intermediate stops, not even Branch Manager. He's now responsible for a lot of activities he doesn't know very much about and really isn't all that interested in, so he does what he knows how to do and likes doing: go out on sales calls.

    1. P.S. If you can seriously write this kind of stuff in five minutes, then I’m jumping out the window right now.

      1. Alicia Bruxvoort says:

        Ok, five minutes plus ten. But when you know me, you know that’s REALLY SHORT for this lady! Don’t go jumping just yet. I still need a friend to ride this rollercoaster of motherhood and writing with!

  5. Mia Green says:

    This was….there are no words for how beautiful. It touched my soul and brought tears to my eyes. Thank you.

    – A friend from FMF

  6. Well isn’t this just lovely!?! Thank you for sharing this experience. I remember feeling overwhelmed and having a sweet Christian woman pray for me in a local drug store aisle. Humbling but helpful! My boys are 34 and 31 now. It was all worth it! I wouldn’t trade a moment of it, homeschooling and all. I’m impressed by your faithfulness. God sees. He sees!

    1. Alicia Bruxvoort says:

      I love hearing from moms who have “lived to tell” about raising their kids to adulthood:) Thanks for stopping by, Lisa.

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