I love being a mom. I’ve always loved it, but possibly even more now that I’m the proud mother of four young adults, ages 16 to 22. Calling a 16-year-old a young adult is stretching it, but hey! – I just scored huge mom points with my youngest one!
One of our kids has moved out, while another is moving back and forth, depending on where and what she’s studying. Our two youngest boys are permanent residents of our home, making sure that sure that every day is still filled with magical moments and holy chaos.
I love talking to my kids, and my youngest two will at any given point give me their perspective on matters. I love how their character is shaped and refined, and how they evaluate and eventually internalize learned values as their own. I am intrigued to see how traits I observed in their early childhood now bloom or take a back seat, how they grow in their gifting, and learn from their mistakes. I can already see that they will all be taller than I am. I love how they easily get things for me from the top shelf, or how they readily run all over the house to find stuff. (I know; I seem to have a thing for child labor.) I adore how they lower themselves to embrace me.
I come up with excuses to pick them up whenever they’ve been out. It’s perfectly safe to use public transport where we live, at least during the day, but I’m happy to pick them up whenever I can. I love to get their fresh impressions, to hear their thoughts while they’re still raw and unprocessed. It’s wonderful how their inner thoughts just spill over.
When our kids were younger I would always help them to get ready for school. We lived just a couple of blocks from the school, so our eldest three would walk by themselves every morning. As they were leaving, I would sit in my blue recliner having a well-deserved cup of coffee and the morning paper. The kids would see me through the window, smile and wave. It was really important to me that the kids could come and tell me everything, and I created a routine that would be predictable and inviting. Every day I would take a break from my work at 2 pm when I knew that they would be coming home from school, and I would have another cup of coffee while sitting in my recliner.
One day the teacher asked my son what kind of job his mom had? “Oh, she sits a big blue chair drinking coffee, that’s all she does,” he said and nodded knowingly. He never even questioned his assumption. He knew, he had seen it with his own eyes. I never told him that he was wrong, why should I? All he knew was his mom always had time for him. Why would I want to correct that? (OK, so my face felt slightly spastic when his teacher told me what he had said, but I didn’t say anything then, either. I could feel the needle at the back of my imaginary badge of honor stinging a bit, though.)
I always wanted to be a mom who had time. I wanted my kids to feel that I was there for them, but it went beyond that. I needed to be a mom who made time for my kids. I was very aware of the fact that I would only have them at home for a few years before they moved on with their lives, and I didn’t want to miss out on anything. I still don’t. Our kids are very independent, and they don’t need me to hang around all the time. But I will make sure that I am available. Having teenagers and young adults is such a special time, I want to make sure that I steward it properly.
Which is why I got really mad when she told me to stop hiding behind being a mom.
I had met her once before. She was a gifted prophetic artist, and at one point she had drawn prophetic images of several members of our family. Those drawings were unlike anything else I had ever seen. She would draw original creatures that didn’t resemble any animal I knew of, sometimes they would consist of parts of different animals. Then she explained why she had included the different parts and their symbolic significance. Other times she would draw situations and explain to my kids what they needed to do in order to grow in different areas of their life. She was a fascinating woman, and I saw how God was using her gift as well as her personality to communicate something that otherwise could easily be missed.
We met for the second time a couple of years later. I didn’t know anything about her, and she didn’t know me, but we both recognized one another and greeted each other as friends. She studied me quizzically before telling me to stop hiding behind being a mom. I was so annoyed. What on earth was she saying? Wasn’t that the most important calling I could possibly walk in? And why would say that I was hiding? What did she know anyway?
I tried to be gracious and overbearing (Yeah, condescending is probably more accurate), but I was offended and wanted to move away from her. She smiled while she went back to drawing, allowing me to ponder for a few seconds whether I wanted to receive what she had for me or not. I felt the presence of God and leaned in.
When she told me that God was taking me into another season and that I would be traveling a lot more, I was irritated. I was happy to be where I was at and I didn’t want to change anything. But because I sensed Holy Spirit in what she was saying I chose to embrace it, even though I couldn’t see how or why our life should possibly change. My husband and I discussed it, and although we didn’t change any plans, we decided to move forward with an open mind and a prayerful heart.
When several areas of our life suddenly and unpredictably changed a few months later we were prepared. I remembered her words and the drawings and was reminded that all my days are in the Father’s hand. He will take care of me – even as I step out of my comfort zone.
As for being a mom? Oh, I’m absolutely a fulltime mom, no matter where I am or what I do. I don’t hide behind it, though. You see, I’m not only a mom. I’m also a daughter of the living King. He is faithful to me and my family. I’ve come to know him as a dad who always makes time.