my mother's day confession

One of the rules of living in Ireland is that when the sun is shining you drop what you're doing and go outside. So here I sit outside on my laptop with Eogan Heaslip playing and a cuppa in hand. It's a beautiful day and the Vitamin D I've been taking seems to be taking effect-thank God. The climate here is similar to Vancouver, Canada, to give you an idea. Apparently though, Vancouver has us beat by 17 inches a year in rainfall! You poor Vancouverites.

Here in Ireland Mother's Day was this past Sunday, not in May as it is in most other countries. I've been meaning to post about my Mother's Day, but have not been in the right frame of mind to do so until now. Here is what I'd like to say to this day:
          Dear Mother's Day:
     I was thinking that instead of coming predictably at the same time each year, you could choose a different, random day and tell only the husbands/fathers/children so that the mom's would be surprised. That way there is little time for unmet expectations and unrealistic ideals that we, as moms, conjure up in our heads. It would also be a lot easier on the men who, undoubtedly every year and not for lack of trying, end up feeling like they didn't quite measure up. It's our issue, I know, but Mother's Day, if you could help us out that'd be great.
                                                                       Sincerely, a Mother

Wouldn't that be nice? Sure it would. But reality is that I'm a child to my mother, so I would know when the day was coming in order to surprise her. Bummer. Maybe each family could individually choose they're own surprise Mother's Day each year. Probably unrealistic also. So what am I left to do? Change. It's just that simple. On days like Mother's Day, Valentine's Day and my birthday each year, instead of enjoying the day for what it is, I'm reminded of my own failures. Most times I want to blame all those around me, but when it comes down to it, these are my problems and no one else's. Here's my issue: setting unrealistic, unattainable expectations that I fail to communicate. It's like I expect those around me (Ben mostly, poor soul) to read my oh-so-fickle mind at each passing turn and make adjustments accordingly. [the sun went behind the clouds-again. I'm going inside now. boo.] I know this about myself, but it seems that every time I'm faced with the choice of how to respond, I end up choosing the wrong response. So this Mother's Day it happened again and I chose wrong again. I knew it too. I said to myself, "This is a choice. I can leave it and be grateful for what he has done (got the kids up, fed, dressed) and join him for breakfast (yes, my sour attitude happened only two hours after I woke up) or I can stew and breath heavily and close doors a little louder than normal and go seclude myself and make him feel like garbage." Which did I do? You guessed it. The unChristian choice #2.

So we got everyone ready to go to church in silence and were meant to go worship. ha. Isn't it funny how God sets us up? How can I worship with bitterness in my heart? I can't! I guess if I was being hypocritical and worshipping Him in Spirit and lies (instead of truth,) but I wasn't about to do that. There we sat, the kids in between us in what seemed a huge chasm, and we worshipped. God is so tender isn't he? He was gentle with me and helped me see what I already knew: He and Ben both cherish me above rubies, above gold, above riches. I am their prize. They would do anything for me and have already laid their lives down for me. Their hearts toward me are unmatched in affection and love...it's up to me how I will receive it. Will I always be saying, "You're not enough" or will I be humbled and grateful, keeping at the forefront of my mind all they have sacrificed for my happiness? Even as I'm writing I'm reminded of my foolishness in how I treated Ben in my heart and with my actions. For myself, (I'm sure none of you can relate) I found a problem in my idea of Mother's Day this year. I found myself desiring a break from everything: kids, cleaning, cooking- basically everything included in the word 'Mother.' When, in actuality, the truth is this: These are the things that make me Mother. These are the things that give me the ticket to experiencing this wonderful day that someone, at some time, set up to honor Moms. How much more ungrateful could I be? My kids are my joy, my delight-why would I want to escape that? Sunday was a lasting eye opener to my own selfishness and sense of entitlement, Lord forgive me.

For all you moms reading this from America, this gives you approximately two months to prepare your hearts of gratitude for what you are about to receive and experience this Mother's Day. I hope my day of failure can inspire you to love fully, remove expectations, and cherish the moments you have with your family that day. And one more note. Let me just say, that if your kids let you down or your husband forgets to make it a special day-or forgets it's Mother's Day entirely, know this: what you do does not go unnoticed by Father God and he has given your kids to you because he trusts you and knows that you are His best choice to raise and nurture them. Your heart for your kids is His heart and he's grateful for all you do. They are blessed (and so is their dad) to have you as their mama.

please note this was before Ben shaved his mustache. ewwww.

I won't say it was a full day of failure though, because I was able to change my tune by the time church was over and I allowed the Holy Spirit to mold me a little more (hopefully!) After a wonderful lunch with many from the church at a nice restaurant we went home, put all the kids down for naps and Ben and I snuggled on the couch to watch Fried Green Tomatoes. After naps I opened my presents-they were so thoughtful! From Ben I got a set of MAC makeup brushes I'd been hinting at from eBay (which, we later discovered, were knockoffs. ugh.) and from the 'kids', my favorite rice cakes with orange yogurt frosting, a huge chocolate egg, and a decorating magazine I can't wait to look through. Not to mention the unsolicited artwork Titus made for me on his leap pad that morning with a heart and 'mom' written on it. Melt my heart. As I'm writing he said through the window, "I put something super special in the mail for you..." I went to see what it was and he had dropped a tiny daisy through the mail slot on the front door. These are the moments I'm reminded of how much I have been given.

Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her. Prov. 31:28