When it's Hardest to be a Mother

Sophia's "Mom, can we talk?" often comes when it's late and making it back downstairs after saying good-night to each sleepy head is my number one goal. There are dishes to be finished, laundry to be folded, schedules to be confirmed, and yes, a ME to attend to. On those days when a shower just doesn't seem to happen before 10 PM, it's all I can think about.

But I've often found that I'm the best mother when it's HARDEST to be a mother. When I have to work at it. When I have to pray for strength to be something that, at that moment, I'm not quite up to being.

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll be right there."

I tell you the heart-to-hearts on the end of her bed when she should be sleeping are lovely. Just lovely.

I count my blessings to be a mother and have such moments when I am really "there" for her. To help her make sense of mortality and it's challenges and help her know where to find strength.  And I leave her room thinking, PLEASE. MORE. OF. THIS.

Twenty minutes earlier her voice had interrupted my sigh of finally having some alone-time. My shoulders had admittedly slumped as the words "not now" fought for justification. But I left her room far from the drained woman who resolved to go in earlier.

I am amazed at this thing called motherhood--this thing that many in the world around me see as beneath my potential. Motherhood at its best and particularly when it is hardest, latches onto all the creative powers of eternity, transforming both those mothered and those mothering.