A Mama’s Hardest Job

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It’s back to school time…and for many of us mamas that means back to bathing in the bitter, still wishing to savor summer’s sweetness. The long, leisurely days with our young ones under our wings feign a return to the way things once were—when they spent their days in the nest.

Of course, there’s plenty of school time nectar to be relished–the shopping; the early morning photo sessions with our backpacked darlings; the rights of passage as they embark on new adventures. And the life space we moms reclaim—the tranquil hours between 8 and 3 that yield productivity.

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But as the novelty wears off, there’s no denying the power of the bitter—to split our mama’s hearts down the middle, leaving us desolate in our suddenly cavernous homes.

Empty, we can feel.

It all boils down to a mama’s hardest job–letting go. Of all the years, all the phases, all the memories made. The necessary yielding we must do, to ALL the changes, constant as they come—this is the motherly cross we bear. Like a machete to our heartstrings.

So bittersweet, our journey as mama birds—watching time whip apathetically by as our babies grow out of the seasons to which we’re still clinging—the changes like acid to our insides.

It’s a daily struggle, striving to embrace each new season with joy and expectancy…

And not regret the time past.

So hard. And yet SO necessary–we must let our fledglings leave our feathered nest and attempt flight.

Because it’s the way of things. Because resolving to embrace the present is the great adventure. Beginning with its startling newness—like sudden submersion into winter waters.

Chilling; thrilling.

As much as we might yearn for life to stay static and simple, our young ones playing perpetually at our feet–it’s a no.\

But this before us, fellow mamas, is a go—a charge to step boldly, bravely with our kids into the uncharted territory they’re itching to conquer.

If not, we’ll miss out…

On the anticipation of each new dawning season. On the nuances of each virgin chapter. On the forging of fresh memories with our dear ones.

This letting go—it’s an impossibility for our tender mama’s hearts—if not for our Savior walking hand in hand with us through these bittersweet valleys. With Him, the mother’s way is paved with unmistakable joy, and our stinging tears intermingle with undeniable hope.

Hope for clinging mamas like me. I dig my heels in at the prospect of change. But I’ve been working on this, sisters. Hard.

Even despite the pain. Because I’m determined not to waste life in the missing. Both mine and my kids’. These years are a gift. Wild and unpredictable though they come, stampeding my plans.

Join me, fellow wistful, nostalgic mamas. It’s time to let go.

Let’s join hands and brave the icy waters together. Plunging into promise–resolving to relish the present, our hair all undone in the winds of change. This is living.

Come to the River…

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” Ecclesiastes 2:3 (NIV)

“I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted. You asked, ‘Who is this that obscures my plans without knowledge?’ Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.” Job 42:2-3 (NIV)

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