Dear Mother,

Maybe you’ve been told not to wish these moments away, that you’ll want them back someday. I wonder if it made you smile, or grow thoughtful, or if maybe you pinched your eyes into little slits and wished people would mind their own business.

They usually mean well, I think, and don’t intend to come across as uppity or old and bossy. Most of us really are trying to be helpful.

I’ve said that: You will wish these moments back. It was never meant as a sermon. No, that was just me wishing. What my heart was saying is that there will come a time when you think back on the fingers stretching out beneath the bathroom door when all you wanted was a moment of peace, the Glazed Doughnut Monster of Snottingham’s unwelcome kisses being applied to your freshly showered face, the nights of broken sleep…

and you will actually miss it.

I only say that because I do.

Not that you will miss the invasion, or the snot, or the bloodshot eyes and incoherent speech. What you will miss are the little faces, the big eyes filled with wonder, the tight hugs at bedtime, the “Mama, you are the bestest ever.”

Because those things get caught up in the breezes of time and blow away.

They melt into classes and meetings and excursions and parties and dinners out and driving permits and weddings and goodbyes. And while goodbye is not forever, it does leave things very, very quiet.

Right now the thought of quiet may sound like the purest music you’ve ever heard. Might even sound too good to be true. Don’t dread the quiet that will come–just close your eyes and breathe in the busy and beautiful noise, the crazy and chaotic flurry of family all around you while it’s here.

Know that you are doing the most noble and beautiful and profound thing you could possibly be doing in this life, you mothering the spark of the Divine here on this humble sod.

Things will calm down. Those littles will grow up. The sticky kisses will cease.

The watercolor ponies will ride away, and you will wish them back.

But that isn’t even the real promise.

The Mama Promise is that you will smile a lot more often if you think a little more deeply about this life you are living right now in the midst of the motherhood mayhem. If you thank God for every dirty face, every untidy room, every load of laundry, every moment made less peaceful by a bathroom buddy.

Because each one of these things is from His hand, a grace only a mother could love.

If you can, try not to wish away these moments, Mama. Savor them for all they are worth. Trust me when I say they are worth far more than you could possibly know right now.

You will be glad you treasured them. This I can promise.


2 thoughts on “The Mama Promise (A Mother Letter)

  1. Ooops, somehow that last comment got a little messed up. 🙂 What I originally said was…
    Thank you for this encouraging letter. As a mom of two under two (who had a very noisy, challenging day) this really speaks to me right now: “just close your eyes and breathe in the busy and beautiful noise, the crazy and chaotic flurry of family all around you while it’s here.”
    Loving all these Mother Letters.
    adriel 🙂

    1. Bless you for stopping by with such sweet words. I remember how overwhelming it was to have little ones. The demands seemed endless, and sometimes it felt hard to breathe. Trust that God will honor this labor of love, dear friend. I am so glad He used my humble words to bring your heart a smile. 🙂

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