I am a coffee snob. I hate the thought of reheated coffee. Wait.. hold on guys... I think I just heard the microwave beeping. My coffee is done being heated back up.
Ok I’m back.
I re-heat my coffee almost every single day. Sometimes more than once.
All of those snappy, standardized, things I used to stamp as my opinion as a guppy, I practically survive on now. Like reheated coffee.
I took Jules to her two-month check up yesterday, sans coffee. Our family doctor came in with a young protege on his heel, teaching her the ropes for the day.
I vividly remember thinking in my makeupless-head that she probably is taking into account how hard motherhood has hit me.
When my firstborn came along, I was always, always, put together. Now on number four, I am always, always, drinking re-heated coffee. Hopefully.
Our doctor is asking about Jules, telling me about the shots she is about to receive, and then finishes the appointment talking about sleep. He mentions that it is probably a good idea to establish a great bedtime routine around 3-4 months to help Jules begin to naturally learn how to self-soothe, so as to help with sleep-training and avoid long nights or battles. The last thing he said was “I bet you already know all of this since you have done it before.”
We said bye and thank you, and waited on the nurse to come in and give the shots so we could leave. And the whole time I am thinking, in my makeupless-head, about all the hard fought battles for sleep that we have partaken in over the last six years, and how I feel no more an expert on sleep as re-heated coffee.
Sleep? Yes I would like some. Reheated or however I can get it. I do get some everyday, but it is fleeting and always never enough to do the trick for the bags under my eyes. Just like my re-heated coffee.
I’m far less an expert on sleep training, but on living life on the edge of exhaustion and nuked-coffee, I’m professional.
The doctor was wrong about his assumption about me. Remember I’m the mom who has locked her sweet baby girl inside our RV and car, not once, but twice. I’m no expert on perfection, but on resolution. I have resolutioned myself on how to live on little sleep. I have not resolutioned myself on how to sleep train every kind of child that has redneck-dna running through their veins.
None of our children have ever had to wear a helmet to re-shape their head. Do you wanna know why I think that is? Because the only kind of species coming from mine or my husbands family has a head harder than granite. We breed‘em and we raise’em.
I am an expert on how to drink hot coffee without having to make fresh coffee. I am an expert on how to get rest without ever actually sleeping. I am an expert on having a quiet time, without it ever actually being quiet or free time. I am an expert on finding solace, when the only background noise you hear around here is a girl-shriek making you so worried that the octave-level they are screaming at might cause an eye ball to pop out of their head.
Mama’s, I’m not here to tell you how to drink your coffee, sleep-train your babies, or keep your kids eyeballs in their head. I’m here to encourage you, that even if there is one kid awake at all hours of the day and night of your house causing a rukkus, that the Lord is there.
For a good long while of my mom-career I put in excellent work early in the mornings, late in the evenings, and even midday, serving and seeking the Lord anyway I could. I realize now it was a magically special season. It molded me magnificently, in that I now realize that for any of Truth to be true, for any lifestyle, season, or storm, none of what Jesus Christ offers us is based upon what we can offer in return. He teaches and blesses and sustains me and saves me just as much today, now, offering-less, as He did when I spent my days with my nose in my Bible.
I‘m reminded again of Psalm 63, and how now I literally starve and thirst and cry out for His presence, not out of abundance, but out of desperation for Him to allow me to see His hand at work, realize His presence in the insanity, and accept what He freely and graciously offers me, though I have nothing, nothing, to feel worthy in return.
No single ounce of me today, deserves at all what He gives, and yet it is just as filling for me this moment of bleakness, as it was seasons ago of abundance.
I may drink re-heated coffee nowadays, but by the grace of God I’m being made new each and everyday.
Hang in there mama‘s.
I promise not to let ME, my own worst critic, keep myself from receiving what He offers me every single day, just because I don’t feel proud of what I haven’t done to deserve it.
And so you promise it too.
Lets open our hands together, though our eyelids may be heavier than the carload under our care.
Just as sure as the sun rises and sets, Jesus is King. And what He has done for us is enough, for every season we find ourself in. This too shall pass.
And let me end on this.. these mom-moments, mom-memories, they are what God is doing in our lives. How He is using us. Seasonly shaping us to look more like a reflection of His Father-heart, while shaping our children to learn to feel the love of a PERFECT HEAVENLY FATHER, not a perfect mama. They just need you and me, us, the exact beings Christ enables us each day to be.
We are putting in good work, it just involves a little
re-heated coffee and makeupless-heads some days.
“Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even if he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will die...”
John 11: 25-26
Mama. Mama. Mama.