Submitted by Sandy of www.godspeakstoday.blogspot.com
As far back as I can remember, I wanted to be a mommy. I used to have a little baby doll I received for Christmas one year, and I carried her everywhere with me. Her name was Newborn Baby. (I came up with that myself). She couldn’t do anything. She didn’t pee or eat or crawl. Her hair didn’t come out of a hole on the top of her head and get long when you pulled it. In fact she didn’t have any hair at all. Just a little bald, plastic head. And a floppy cloth body.
When I was six-years-old, after my niece Jennifer was born, Newborn Baby suddenly became “Jennifer.” But she just didn’t look like a Jennifer. She looked like a “Newborn Baby.” So, I chucked “Jennifer” (the name, not the niece) and decided that my dolly would forever be known as Newborn Baby.
I was hooked. At the ripe old age of six, I discovered my call in life was to be a Mommy. It was only a matter of time.
In 1997, I became a real mommy with a real Newborn Baby. I named him Noah. (I also came up with that myself). And then Rebekah…and Elijah…and Elliana. Over the last 11 years of Mommy-ing, I’ve discovered that being a mother is everything I hoped it would be, and much, much more.
But somewhere between holding Newborn Baby as a child and Baby Noah as an adult, my call in life became complicated. I graduated from elementary school, high school and college—devoted my life to God somewhere in the middle of all of that—and along the way, discovered many talents and dreams within myself.
I realized for the first time that God created me for a divine purpose and that He was developing and shaping me for that purpose.
As a young mother, I became excited about the possibility of doing great things for the kingdom of God. I envisioned myself writing books, speaking to women around the world while leading the masses to Christ, and saving orphans from a life of poverty and homelessness.
Maybe even be on OPRAH! Yes, Oprah.
But my reality looked nothing like that. There was no writing, other than grocery lists scribbled on the back of junk mail. There was no public speaking, other than my yelling at my children in the grocery store (coincidentally named Publix) between clenched teeth,
“get.here.right.now.or.you.will.NOT.get.to.watch.
Veggie.Tales.when.we.get.home.”
And to date, I have only saved two orphans. Elijah and Elliana.
In fact, I was feeling somewhat underutilized. I mean, seriously…it doesn’t take much talent to wipe a bottom. Wipe a nose. Wipe a spill. And if I’d even attempt to do something remotely “ministry-like,” better chances than not it would be interrupted by a vomiting child, a hungry child or a screaming child. Or all three. Or all three in one child. Whatever. It just rarely happened.
Might as well put my dreams on hold until I can REALLY use my gifts and talents for the Kingdom of God, cuz it ain’t happening today.
I would often sit by the window rocking a baby, watching all these women with styled hair and full-faced make-up drive by. And I’d wonder, where are they were all going? My wondering would turn to aching as I longed to put some make up on my own tired eyes and do something “bigger” and “better” for God.
To complicate things further, I had lots of well-meaning Christian friends who also recognized talents in me. And they’d often remind me that God was preparing me for a “great ministry some day.”
Yes, some day I will have a Great Ministry. But not today.
Today, I’m a Mom. And this—motherhood–is just preparation for my Real Ministry. My Future Ministry. My Writing, My Speaking, My Oprah appearance. Motherhood is nothing but preparation for the real thing.
As the early years of mothering progressed, this internal struggle morphed into a giant beast. A beast of discontentment and confusion. I looked at every other woman “out there,” and longed for whatever they were doing. I didn’t even know what “they” were doing. I didn’t even know who “they” were. I just knew there were a whole bunch of women out there doing something meaningful and fulfilling—impacting the world somehow—wearing make-up and hip hair—and I was missing it.
Whatever “it” was.
I spent the majority of my prayer time crying out to God asking Him to show me what I was supposed to be doing to be in the center of His will. I was constantly looking for ministry opportunities outside my home, but feeling guilty and frustrated that I couldn’t actually act on anything until my children were older.
I didn’t want to stop being a mom. I didn’t even want someone else to take care of my kids so I could go do something else. I just sincerely longed to fulfill the calling that God had placed on my life to do something “big” for Him. I wanted to do the Mom -Thing. But I felt pressure to simultaneously do a Ministry-Thing. The preparation was okay. But this wasn’t “it.” I wanted the Real Ministry.
Then one ordinary day, my husband came home from work and began sharing the details of his ordinary work day. A day filled with problems and issues. A day interrupted by disgruntled employees and co-workers. A day consumed with phone calls and meetings. From my view point, it sounded hectic and stressful. “Poor Jon,” I thought. “What a crazy day. I’m sure he’ll be happy to have a more productive day tomorrow when things get back to normal.”
I sympathized with Jon saying, “I’d go crazy if I had to deal with that stuff all day. How in the world do you ever get your job done with all those interruptions?”
And he replied, “The interruptions ARE my job. That’s what they pay me to do. It doesn’t deter from my work, it IS my work.”
Whoa. This was huge. An extraordinary truth dropped into my heart in a matter of a nanosecond. The magnitude of which I wasn’t even sure I completely grasped.
Suddenly, I saw my role as “Mommy” as something more than preparation. I saw it as the Real Deal.
This IS ministry.
This IS my calling.
This IS the fulfillment of my purpose, at least for now.
Sure, it’s also preparation for the future—which hopefully involves some make-up and hip hair—but that doesn’t negate its validity as The Ministry For This Season of My Life. Not just the “pre-ministry” but a real, bonafide calling in its own right.
Sometimes I still have a tendency to look around at what others are doing and wonder if I’m on track. Sometimes I briefly struggle with jealousy as I see others progressing in their public ministry while I’m still home wiping bottoms.
But since that ordinary day, I no longer spend weeks (or years!) comparing myself and questioning my value in God’s Kingdom. I no longer heap on myself unnecessary anxiety for “missing out” on God’s purpose for me. I no longer beg God to show me what I’m really supposed to be doing.
Miraculously, I also no longer feel a boatload of guilt and frustration when I turn down an outside ministry opportunity so that I can take care of my family. Understanding God’s will for this season in my life has liberated me in all other areas of life, as well. This knowledge has brought with it a joy and peace in mothering that sorely lacked early on. I realize now, I can pour myself into my family and not fear that I’m missing opportunities to impact my world.
Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody. (I Thessalonians 4:11-12)
Lesson Learned: My role as Mother is just as significant as my role as Minister. Maybe even more so.
Awesome and so true.
“Whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the LORD and not to men.”
Colossians 3:23
Eryn’s last blog post..I just don’t have much to say these days
“I don’t want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with grass stains on my shoes from mowing Sister Schenk’s lawn. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor’s children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone’s garden. I want to be there with children’s sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.”
Marjorie Hinckley