One of my pastors at church asked me to write something up for Mother's Day next week, and I thought I'd share it with you, too.
I was having one of “those” kinds of days when I ran across an old diary of mine in a drawer. It was a “Five Year” diary that has really small spaces to write a few sentences in each day. I must have thought that maybe if there were only a few lines I might actually keep up with it, but like most of the diaries I’ve tried to keep, the entries were sparse. And even then, only the first year of the five had anything written in it.
One entry in particular caught my eye. It was dated August 19, 1997. Our son, Grayson was only three and a half, and our girls were still in grade school. It read,
Today as I pulled Gray in the wagon to meet Lauren after school, he said to me, “Ya know, Mom, you’re the goodest mom I evah seen!”
I laid the diary down and pictured that boy as he used to be in his little denim overalls, with wispy blonde hair, blue eyes and pudgy fingers hanging on to the sides of the red Radio Flyer. I instantly got a lump in my throat. Not just for the sweetness of that time in life, but for the journey that has been Motherhood for me.
When I started out as a new mother, I was filled with awe and a sense of destiny in being Someone’s Mom. And while I’ve never really lost that awe, the reality of raising children amidst the stresses of life has sometimes knocked the stuffing out of me. There have been days, like the day I found the old diary, that I’ve felt failure closing in around me. I couldn’t seem to do anything right, and I’ve wanted to give up on the whole business of parenting.
But those simple words from long ago made me remember what it means to be a Mom. I’m never going to get the prize for “Bestest Mom.” I rarely get ahead of the laundry and my meals are one-skillet-wonders, not gourmet creations. I’m often forgetful and impatient, distracted and disorganized. My kids know what it’s like to wear mismatched socks and eat breakfast cereal for dinner.
But “Goodest Mom.” Now, that’s something, there. Goodest Mom means that even if you’re not June Cleaver, you’re still just the kind of Mom your kids need. It means that God knew what He was doing when He put your family together. It means that your kids feel loved and that they know they belong to this little operation you’ve got going on. There’s something warm and accepting about the Goodest Mom label.
Maybe it helps not to be called the “Worstest Mom,” but being in the Goodest category means that a Mom doesn’t have to be perfect to raise great kids. The passing of time has given me perspective on those years of hard work, family fun and even the self-doubt. I’ve experienced the mystery of prayer, the challenge of working things out and the beauty of grace in an imperfect family.
I’d love to go back in time for just a moment, so I could tell myself to lighten up a little bit. To stop worrying about being the Bestest, and just work on being the Goodest. Our kids haven’t needed Perfection, they’ve just needed Real. And maybe in the end that’s what being the best kind of Mom is all about.
This Mother’s Day I’m going to celebrate the good things that have happened in our family, and I’m going to embrace the imperfections that keep us dependent on a faithful God. I’m going to enjoy knowing that, in spite of everything, my kids still think I’m the Goodest Mom.
I’m grateful for the journey and awed by the privilege.
