Remembering Motherhood Well (A Letter To Future Me)

Dear Future Me,I wanted to write this letter to you, hopeful that you aren’t as hard on yourself (now that your kids are all grown up) as you were when you were a mom of young children. I hope you give yourself more grace and remember motherhood well. They say hindsight is 20/20, but when I look back on memories from my teens, twenties, and early thirties, it’s hard for me to remember things clearly sometimes — how I responded, how I felt, what my thoughts and actions were in the moments in between the big milestones and memories. And since your children are grown up now as you read this, Future Me, I know you may wonder if you were the best mom you could have been.By ANGIE MERRILLSo Future Me, I want to tell you that being a mom of three young children was difficult, wonderful, unpredictable, unexpected, and absolutely one of the best things you’ve ever experienced. You were not a perfect mom, but you never aimed for perfection.Sometimes you were tired, yes, imperfect (of course), but each morning you got out of bed and strived to tackle the newness (and sometimes the monotony) of each day with love, grace, and creativity. You aimed to be a mom who pleased God and loved her children well… Your burning desire was to teach them, to serve your family, to make things fun, but also to instill in them a love for Jesus and kindness toward others.Future Me, you may remember the season when you struggled to maintain your joy as you constantly battled a strong-willed child/future leader. It caught you off guard, yes. There was indeed a learning curve as you got to know your future leader and devoured everything you could read on how to parent lovingly and consistently through that trial. You made some mistakes. There were times you weren’t sure you had what took to raise someone so strong, intense, and independent. But your foggy memory might try to convince you that this was your experience the entire time your kids were young. And in actuality through lots of prayer, persistence, LOVE, reading, support from an amazing husband and friends, you got through it. There were moments in this tough season that were scary and uncertain. But there was also so much joy…so much laughter…so much hope….so much gratitude.When you looked upon each of your children, you tried to will your brain to remember…to etch into your memory these moments, facial expressions, funny and precious things they’d say, and the sound of their voices at every stage. And you worried you’d forget.You managed the different personalities of your children with a special appreciation and love for each one. They kept you on your toes with their many changes, but you counted yourself blessed to be able to be there for them physically and emotionally as you didn’t quite get to experience in your own childhood.You snuggled, hugged, and kissed their sweet faces often. Oh how you loved to love on them! You soaked them in as if doing so was drinking from the fountain of youth itself.I know you, and I know what you’re thinking: “I should have gotten down on the floor and PLAYED with them more.” Guess what: You did that sometimes. Maybe you could have done it more. But, girl, you tried and you had a lot on your plate.You were the reader of bedtime stories.The helper with homework.The cooker of dinner.The preparer of healthy snacks.The washer and folder of endless loads of laundry.The manager of schedules.The shopper of food.The article reader and saver of anything helpful having to do with parenting, children, crafts, social media apps, movies, and cultural trends to be aware of.The taker and organizer of photos.The journaler of important milestones.The cleaner.The teacher of how to do chores.The doer of hair.The listener of silly stories.The answerer of both deep and funny questions.The constant reminder to be gracious, kind, generous, and forgiving.The comforter of broken hearts.Future Me, as a mom you were a healer of boo-boos with your ouch-less antiseptic spray, Arnica gel, Band-Aids, essential oils, and children’s Tylenol. You were the parent they called upon in the middle of the night due to stomach aches, headaches, growing pains, or bad dreams. You rolled out of bed each and every time, always surprising yourself how you could be so loving and gentle with them at 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. when you were SO. VERY. TIRED.You helped them study multiplication, sight words, and super reader books though at times you thought you might fall asleep (or die of boredom) because the day had been so long already…and you had poured out so much of yourself. You helped with homework and school projects — but just the right amount of help because you didn’t want to be a mother who did everything for their kids for fear of them failing. You believed failure was a good thing, a teachable moment, and something you and your children could go through and learn from together. Plus, you found something truly special in a project that was the result of a child’s imagination and ability and not your own.You worried for them…every time they climbed a tree or played too rough, or went to school, or when others were unkind or cruel. You wondered if they would remember everything you taught them when faced with peer pressure or the opportunity to stand up for someone else or to fight for what was right.You prayed for them….before they were even born your prayed for them. You prayed out loud every single drive to school. You prayed before bed. You prayed throughout the day. You prayed that they would be strong and healthy….students of God’s Word….courageous and kind. You prayed that the seeds of faith that were being planted in their hearts would never be snatched away. You prayed that they would be wise to the enemy’s and the world’s schemes. You prayed that they would be set apart for the Lord and choose the narrow path (Matthew 7:13-14). You prayed that they would follow God’s plan and purpose for them, and that they would have a relationship with Jesus who would be both their Lord and their friend (John 15:15). You prayed for God’s protection and guidance.Future Me, remember that you sang to your children. You put music on often. You had spontaneous dance parties in the living room. You tried to incorporate biblical lessons and Jesus in your everyday life. You did silly voices. You tried to make things fun. You were amazed by the way they talked. You tried to always speak to them and kind and loving manner — even in discipline. And of course you weren’t perfect at this. Yes, there were times you were grumpy, and tired, and human. Yes, there were times you wondered if you were doing the right thing by working part-time, and not homeschooling, and not changing the family’s diet to vegan and gluten-free.But Future Me, in this moment where I (past you) am feeling patient and gracious with myself, I wanted you to know that you were a great mom.Let me repeat that in case you still haven’t learned to accept compliments:YOU WERE A GREAT MOM. You did your best by the grace of God, and you never gave up. You loved your children well. May God bless you with fond memories of this wonderful, unpredictable, crazy, awesome season of life.Angie Merrill is a mom of three, a wife, a writer, and a follower of Christ based in Los Angeles, Calif. She aims to help parents of strong-willed children stay calm, connected, and creative as they joyfully lead future leaders. You can learn more about Angie on her blog https://grumpyfrumpymommy.com.

What Doesn't Kill You Will... ?

What doesn’t kill you will make you stronger.I have heard that saying all of my life. I had coaches, teachers, mentors, and even my own parents tell me that from time to time. In that statement, is courage, hope, faith, disbelief, struggle, surrender, and strength... just to name a few.In that one simple phrase is not only the hope that what is going on will soon pass but the strength to not allow for your mind to kill your effort to get to the end. Like a good fire that crackles and burns with intensity, if you don’t add wood, will soon die out. Our best efforts are just trying to get through the next hour without having a moment where we want to do like Michael Jackson in the “Scream” video.With the recent commemoration of the 25th anniversary of the L.A. Riots, it is hard to believe that this time in history made us any stronger when we still have police killing innocent black males in our cities.It is hard to believe that we were made stronger when we have folks that profess to being Christians, yet pimp and look down on the poor and disenfranchised. It is hard to believe that we were made stronger in the aftermath of the L.A. Riots when we still look at women as objects and not the crucible of generations. It is hard to believe that we were made stronger when there is more money given to prison development than to educating young minds.It is hard to believe that we were made stronger when the rich control the purse strings and the poor must dance to a tune of the puppet master. It is hard to believe that we were made stronger when families are being is dismantled systematically in our black and brown neighborhoods.The other side of what doesn’t kill you will make you stronger is hope and an unrelenting spirit to keep pushing through the pain of life’s hurdles.In the Word, it states that if we faint not in well doing, we will reap blessings. Can we find the blessings in the midst of the death that is going on in our souls? Could it be that if we learn how to control our breathing, we won’t have an asthma attack on the narratives of society? Could it be that we have to find the strength to push through the muck and mire of this journey?Strength. That is what we need in this time when we are suffocating on the smog of racism, sexism, gender-ism, and other isms.Strength is what some of the brothers who I went to Morehouse with found when they needed to stay up late nights to study, knowing that their financial aid might not come through for the next semester. Strength is what my dear friend needed when he got the call that his dad been found after looking for him for most of his life. Strength is what is needed when you want to hear the voice of your mom but there isn’t a phone in heaven.Strength is what what the young boy needs who is dealing with everything from learning how to tie a tie to knowing what to say to that young lady at school while having no father to glean from. Strength is what is needed for the woman who is abused, to say enough is enough and begin her migration to something better.Strength is what is needed to start an organization like K.I.N.G. Movement that allows men to have a space to disembark their feelings, yet have space for a brotherhood revival. Strength is knowing that marriages can survive the storm if both have faith-survival skills.Strength is that uncanny ability to not allow the vicissitudes of life to kill our spirit. Our spirit will need to live, in spite of our experiences. It is that ability to reach down inside of our being to find the fortitude to, in the words of the my grandmother, keep on keeping on.Our strength is able to capture the hope of our tomorrows and allow for us to deal with the problems of today. Strength is what is needed for the generations that will come behind us to be more educated in civic engagement and social justice. Strength is what we will need in this new age of us versus them in our political pool. Strength is how we will get over our differences of opinion on race. Strength is what the church offers on Sunday morning when the choir sings the hymn with the words, “His eye is on the sparrow, so I know that He watches, He watches me.”Strength is what I see when I hold my mother’s hand. Strength is what I see in the eyes of parents of my predominantly Hispanic students, knowing that this battle is not theirs but the Lord's. Strength is what I hear in the voice of my father, when he reminds me that my last name matters in the equation of my being.Strength is what feel when I tell my children, I love you... and as long as I live I will ALWAYS have your back!Editor's Note: This post was originally published at Cedric Nelms Ministries.