A few weeks ago, I found myself sitting in the middle of our upstairs bedrooms - trying to decipher which toys were broken, missing pieces, not played with, not sanitary, not of this century, etc. I was three trash bags in, and I didn't think I had made any progress. At least you couldn't tell if you just walked in. It was a losing battle - I threw in the towel as soon as Grayson noticed me not-so-slyly tossing the Incredibles Happy Meal toy into sack #3... Miller was screaming after only 21 minutes of napping in the swing, and Briggs had gotten down to his underwear for the 3rd time since breakfast because "clothes aren't comfortable, mom." And we had about 1 hour to somehow find our clothes, load up, get to the grocery store and back.
God said, "Courage."
Yesterday, I was figuring out how to make it to #2's baseball practice, with numbers 1, 3 and 4 in tow. Daddy was trapped at the airport because when you put 4 guys in one vehicle to go on a bachelor trip, somebody will lose the keys and not notice til the flight home.
I shoved an early bottle down M, let Briggs dress himself, loaded up, grabbed 8 bottles of water, made sure they all had shoes on and left the house. Forgot snacks - oh well, it's just an hour. But it was 98 degrees outside. One hour couldn't be too bad right? Ha - A sweaty mama got to hold a sweaty baby who didn't want to nap, while BK3 found the ONLY pile of dog shit in the public park, and Grayson insisted on creating a beam routine on the top bleacher while I rake the flip flop with my one free hand...one eye on the shit shoe and one eye on the olympic gymnast at the top - Miller still along for the ride - Briggs still practicing, for the win. Grayson definitely found the same pile of crap just 10 minutes later. I seriously pondered letting him run free in a public park barefoot. Then I began raking a 2nd shit shoe. My kids are country folk, but public parks are scary.
God said, "Courage."
I'm not sure why I keep hearing a non-recognizable voice repeat it. But God said, "Courage." And I'll take it. Since Miller was born 5 short months ago, I find myself a woman of steel, but also a heart that can stand on the verge of a mess and quickly crumble. I have heard those 3 words repeated like a broken record, whether it is night 3 of after-midnight bed times, an exploded diaper, or trying to run my business from home in the middle of sword fights, runny noses, and molluscum. In one thought, I wonder if I can get it done. And the very next - those three words. God said, "Courage."
It takes me back to being 19 years old, dancing in Los Angeles, and my Mom flies across the country to let me know I had lost my dad. I never heard those three words then. But now, I know what it means. It takes me back to almost losing my mama to a massive heart attack 2 years later. It takes me back to praying for God to send me the right man to marry. It takes me back to wondering if I had made the right choice in saying "Yes" and then waiting for those church doors to open and walk down the aisle. It takes me back to our firstborn. Our second. Our third. And now our fourth. It doesn't matter how many times God gifts you with a child. It's scary. And beautiful.
God said, "Courage."
I pause and remember times where I never knew to have courage, but I did. I think as mamas, we don't have enough fingers to count on when referencing those moments. God said, "Courage" because sometimes we need more than a deep breath. We are made to adapt. To put on our big girl panties and GET. IT. DONE. In one breath, we want to line everybody up for a spanking while in the next breath, we are morphing our Godzilla into Mary Poppins. No wonder everyone thinks we're crazy. We are. But we're beautiful.
I thank God every day for making me a wife. A mother. A daughter, friend, sister and a teacher. Everyone says "God doesn't give you anything you can't handle," and I think we all at times, hate that God thinks we're so damn strong in re-organizing a toy room of 7 years. I scolded myself a little for letting the sweet joys of motherhood make me feel like a loser. When reflecting back, there are huge moments of my life that truly broke me into pieces. We all can understand, those moments are what help us become us. Ready to take on the diapers, carpools, sickness, shit-shoes, late nights, dirty laundry, kitchens, small bumps, big bumps, toddlers, three-nagers, teenagers, that all too soon turn into magic dust as our children grow up. I'll embrace the sword fights and molluscum. And the courage. Oh, the courage. Because our jobs are scary. And beautiful.
