June 8, 2015

Mama's Work Hard...in Every way. 

                                 

Strong.  Yes, I have always considered myself to be a strong girl, a strong woman.  In fact I have prided myself on it. Oh, I can dress up and be feminine and beautiful with the best of them, but so often I felt just as beautiful rolling up my sleeves, getting dirty and accomplishing a hard days work.  I believe in hard work.  I’m good at it.  But I never defined it the way that life has defined it for me recently, and oh how I would rather be doing yard work, scrubbing toilets, or any other manual labor job….you name it, I’ll do it. But that’s not the plan for me. Not right now.  No, hard work for me is no longer defined by dirt under my nails, calluses on my hands, or long active physical experiences. Hard work for me now consists of a completely different kind of endurance, digging out weeds much harder to find and conquer. Calluses on the heart and spirit, that help me stay tough, allow me to press forward.  Endurance of the spirit, the kind that can be accomplished only through the strength of my Savior Jesus Christ. 

“Mama, can you hold me?” words that are music to my ears, at the same time leave a bitter taste in my mouth. How desperately I want to pick up my sweet boy and hold him close to me. Oh, if only I could will my arms to have the strength to lift his tiny body, throw him in the air and swing him around. But that strength and control left me 5 weeks ago. I very awkwardly hobble over to the couch, dragging my numb, stiff leg behind me, inviting my little boy to climb up on my lap where we can snuggle. He is content. For a moment I start sinking into a black hole. What kind of mother am I that cannot even pick up her small child? My children deserve more/better. He reaches up and touches my face. His soft hand, tiny, familiar. I reach up and touch his hand, gently holding it in mine, and feel myself begin to rise back to the light, leaving that dark hole of sadness and self-pity beneath me. I clasp his hand a bit tighter and hold on desperately, as if this 3 year old boy is my life line to that light. I look down at him, as if in response he looks up into my eyes and for a moment I see myself through the eyes of my child.

I am his Mama. I am strong. He does not measure my strength with how fast I can run, or how high I can throw him. My strength to him is measured in love. He does not care that I have to sit before we snuggle, only that we do snuggle. He needs to feel safe and loved, secure and happy. So long as I provide those feelings for him I am strong. I am Mama. His love for me does not diminish because my body struggles, but thrives when my heart is open. He feels safe and secure when I provide an environment where the spirit is present, a Christ centered home. To accomplish this most vital goal does not require the dishes to be done or the house to be spotless, the weeds to be pulled or for me to fit into my size 2 jeans. It requires my heart, my will, my humility, my love and my submission to My Savior Jesus Christ and the hard work He has planned for me to do. My strength is defined not by the weaknesses of the flesh, but by the willingness of the spirit. My strength , every ounce of it, physical, emotional, spiritual abides in Jesus Christ. I am strong only as I submit cheerfully and gratefully to His plan for me. I am strong in His light. I am strong in my faith in Him. I am strong as I bask in the gift of the atonement that He has lovingly given. I am strong as I give all I have and all I am to Him, to my babies, my husband and all those I can reach.  I don’t know what the plan for my body is, but I do know the plan for me is to succeed gloriously in teaching and loving my family, serving and keeping my covenants, ultimately returning to live with my Heavenly Father again and basking in the Light of Christ for eternity.

Strong. Yes, I am a strong woman. My strength is my faith In Jesus Christ. I am learning to love this newly defined hard work where the simplest of physical tasks takes concentration and exertion.  The real work takes place inside.  Learning to let the spiritual master the physical, dispelling the dark chatter in my head and replacing it with positive words of light. Understanding my true worth on a level that I have never discovered before.   

I wrap my arms a little tighter around my sweet boy and feel him nuzzle into my love. I am a Mama.  I feel the warmth of my Heavenly  Fathers arms wrap and  tighten around me, and I nuzzle into His love. I am a child.