The Paradox of Motherhood

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I remember the day a newly-engaged young woman asked me a thought-provoking question.

“What do you love most about being a mom?” Her eyes glittered, fresh with the hope of someday–after choosing wedding colors and the perfect white dress–embracing the season I was living. 

A mom of five kids under the age of ten, my life was a daily blur of diapers and dishes, homework helping and hand-holding. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept through the night. Or gone to bathroom alone. Or curled up on the couch and read a book with a plot line more intricate than Green Eggs and Ham.

I eyed my young friend and responded rather flippantly,  “Little warm bodies curled up on my lap as the sun rises, dancing to toddler tunes in the middle of the kitchen, and the fact that a rainbow popsicle can make the whole day special.” 

The young woman nodded her head and shot me a sweet smile.  

Then, after a long pause, she flipped the question. “So what do you dislike about being a mom?”

I pondered her question for a moment and wondered how to put words to the jumbled thoughts in my mind. And, then, with a subtle smirk, I replied, “Little warm bodies curled up on my lap as the sun rises, dancing on a sticky kitchen floor to toddler tunes and the fact that the biggest highlight of our whole day may be a rainbow popsicle.” 

The soon-to-be bride cast me a confused look and then moved on to simpler topics like the weather and the dilemma of where to hold her rehearsal dinner. Perhaps she made a mental note never to engage sleep-deprived moms of five in conversations that require introspection.

But for once, my circular response wasn’t due to the thick mental mommy fog that often stunted my ability to articulate intelligent adult thoughts without utilizing highly-descriptive and mature terms like yucky or poopy. It wasn’t due to the fact that I hadn’t slept through the night in nearly a decade. Or that I’d skipped breakfast in my rush to get my preschooler out the door.

This time, my perplexing answer was simply an honest acknowledgment of the surprising paradox of motherhood.  

Motherhood is a brightly wrapped contradiction of marvel and monotony, beauty and boredom, dancing and drudgery. And, if we’re honest, the parts of motherhood that we’d once imagined would feel like our greatest blessings can also feel like our greatest burdens.

And sometimes, when we live in the daily muck of the mommy trenches, monotony can overshadow the marvelous, boredom can tarnish the beauty, and drudgery can halt the dancing.  

But one thing I’ve learned after seventeen years of parenting is this–  The invisible line that separates my blessings from my burdens is the condition of my heart.

Am I grateful or grumpy?

Content or complaining?

Prayerful or prideful?

Is my heart anchored in the Word or steeped in thoughts of the flesh?

The condition of my heart impacts the state of my eyes.

Will I choose to see my children as a duty or a delight? As a present or a problem?

The Word of God declares declares, “Children are a gift from the Lord.” (Psalm 127:3)

And the One who breathed that word through the Psalmist’s fingers, the One who knows the exact number of hairs on our children’s heads and the exact number of fears that rumble in our mommy hearts is acquainted with paradox.

God is both the Lion of Judah AND the spotless Lamb; the King of Heaven AND the Suffering Servant, the One who extends mercy AND the One who renders judgment.

He is the first AND the last, the Beginning AND the End, a God of perfect paradox.

And so, on the days when my blessings grow heavy and my heart is drained of gratitude, I  need only to lift my eyes above the stickiness on my kitchen floor and fix my gaze on the One who understands this paradox called MOTHERHOOD.

And, you know what? When, I keep my eyes on Him, I’m prone to agree with His declaration. Children are indeed a gift from the Lord. And on most days, that’s a gift even sweeter than a rainbow popsicle!

Stephanie Shott
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