Endless Winter

It is nine days into the New Year and I am still sweeping up these tiny green monsters called pine needles. They seem to stick and hide in every nook and cranny, crack and crevice, and under the molding. I find myself fantasizing about one of those robot vacuums. I could hop on my best friend Amazon and read all the reviews, compare prices, and get me one of those bad boys. That would be the easy thing to do. But in reality, I bet a robot vacuum could never get to the edge of every crack like a broom can. You see, sometimes manual labor is best. Sometimes there is no easy way out, no substitute. This reminds me of motherhood. It would be easier to wish away the tough times, to see our children’s carefree spirit as a frustration. After all, can’t they see we’re tired? Tired of the endless messes. Tired of the headaches. The lack of sleep.

As I’m a slave to this broom, I hear the pitter patter of little feet (romping and stomping is a more accurate description than pitter patter!) and see my daughter running around the house yelling at our dog to join in the fun. She yells “follow me Mudge!” because she has convinced herself that he is Mudge from the Henry and Mudge book series. I groan over the pile of dirt and pine needles that I have gathered and suddenly am reminded of her age and that school will be in our midst shortly. I say to myself Lord, please take back all of the “I wishes.” All of the “I can’t wait until’s” that I begged for during the hard times. I beg God to slow down time. No just make it stop. Help me breathe in this moment. This cold, pine needle winter. I am sadly aware that our snuggling times are fewer and fewer, shorter and shorter. My hand is pushed away at times of embrace as she exercises her newly found independence.

These are the times us moms get baby fever. We long for the fresh smell of a newborn baby who we can cuddle without fuss for hours. A baby who can fill the voids in the parenting stage we are in. Most of us wake up from this dream and recognize our weaknesses, our baby grief. I say a silent prayer for myself and every mother. Lord help us to recognize our insecurities. Help us to notice when we are looking to things or others to fill the gaps. Help us to look to you as our sole source of comfort. Thank you for each day of motherhood. Each messy, cloudy, tired day. In Jesus name.