Tales from a Mid-Lifer

Whenever I visit a first-time Mom, my personal tradition is to bring a gift for her, not the infant. There are already piles of onesie’s, outfits through 4T, and impressive stacks of diapers strewn about the house. New Mama lights up holding the little something just for her. I keep my visit short because within a few days post-delivery, most Moms are wiped out from visitors. Or, more so, they are fatigued by all the birthing stories and parenting advice filling their living room.

Once the guests leave and new Mama filters through all the words they left behind, there are really only a handful of truths offered between the “I wish I had…”; “When we had Joey….”; “When my OBG…”, etc. While I’m a believer that much is learned through others’ stories, the poor girl hasn’t slept much, her usually orderly house is in shambles, and delivering an entire life into being has left her still-chubby and wildly uncomfortable down there.

Most of the shared sentiments will soon be forgotten in the new chaos named motherhood. Hopefully, those few truths will rise up at the kitchen counter just when she needs the reminder or encouragement. One universal truth of parenting forever remains: “It goes by so, so fast. Really, really fast. Before you know it, she will be a teenager.” While new Mama stares blankly wondering if her bra size and shoe size will ever return to normal, that line will usually take root somewhere in the archives of her tired brain.

Limiting my personal sharing and attempting to ask her the questions, the only line I try to impress is: “Your family is your first mission field.” Ok, and I might also confirm that it all goes by stupid-fast.

Throughout my 30’s and 40’s, I felt like American Airlines, offering 24/7, 365 days of “non-stop service to the Smith Family” (Smith is a pseudonym). Anything child, school, home, shopping, holiday, etc., etc., e t c., I was on it no less than 100%, along with maintaining a part time teaching job and regular volunteering. The house had to be orderly, food cooked and me presentable. I was exhausted and often self-loathing for not accomplishing even more in a day. Yes, I know now how foolish I was but the regular requests for mission volunteers while parenting young children elevated this former type-A’s need to do more.

Whatever church we happened to be attending at the time, strong emphasis was placed upon overseas or out-of-state missions. “Can’t commit to a year of giving? Well, how about joining us? My son over there has been overseas eight times in his 18-years! You can do this!”

Um, could I? You still either write the check or do hours and hours and hours of fundraising. I stare at the boy, wondering how in the world this family has sent the child to four countries multiple times.

This was one area I simply could not devote time to as Mom. Though I said my first “no”, I carried some guilt about it. There wasn’t anyone in my life at the time assuring me that missions work was happening right in my home. There are strong, often unrealistic societal expectations upon Moms, including in the church body. We simply cannot do all things, nor be slaves to our own deep-seeded internal critic telling us to squeeze in more.

A young Mama shared with me her guilt about saying “no” to participating in a community project. I reminded her that soon enough the children will be assaulted by the world’s rain, floods and winds (Matthew 7:25). Her time spent in the nest, teaching the firm foundation, counts in the great commission. That discipleship will become the rock on which the future adult-children stand.