It never really was, but I liked to think that it was before--when life seemed like it was under my control. Those were also the days when I imagined that rationalizing with a toddler was an easy two-step process; when, to be honest, I viewed motherhood as something that would be easy because I figured that if you love your kid enough, you'd have all the knowledge you need to get through any obstacle.
I have learned that love is enough, but only in the "love covers a multitude of sins" sense of the word. It's enough to keep you trying.
There is a new sense of awareness that motherhood awakens. Not only are we given a third eye in the back of our head; a heightened sense of instinct that tells us to turn around when our kid is about to jump off a table head first onto slate tile; an ability to wake up at the sound of a tiny whimper 3 rooms away in a well-insulated house. Yes, those would all imply heightened senses, but there is also a wise fear that develops. It's an awareness that YOU are responsible for who this person becomes, or does not become. It would be easy to simply focus on outward achievements; being responsible for the condition of someone's heart requires you to reflect on the state of your own soul.
When they're little, they speak the words you speak. They want to walk in your shoes (literally, at least my kids do). When they see you put on lipstick, they want to do it too. Then, if you do it every day, they probably start to wonder why. You may even begin to hear them say, "I want to wear lipstick so I can be beautiful" and that statement in itself is enough to change your grooming routine. So you wear lipstick less and opt for chapstick more. You tell them they are beautiful without make-up, but you want to prove it to them by believing and behaving as if YOU are beautiful without make-up, too. Suddenly, you don't want to talk about your insecurities around them, how you feel like you're not smart enough, brave enough, good enough, because you realize THEY will believe this about themselves, too.
Then you decide that simply not talking about it isn't enough. ("It" being everything that you struggle with internally.) Changing what you believe would make it enough, though, because what you say and what you believe manifests itself in how you behave, and especially how you love. And you know they deserve the best love so that they can be the best people, the kind that don't have to struggle with this as much as you do. It doesn't even matter if the person before you made the mistake of not changing what they believe(d) (that person being the one who was responsible for you). Your reality? You no longer have an excuse, and if you do, you'll have to eventually replace it with an apology 20 or so years from now when they look at you with a broken heart, or a broken marriage, or even worse, a broken spirit that believes it's unlovable.
Terrified, anyone? I'm learning to see that this great responsibility is a gift that can only be opened when viewed as a daily adventure in trusting all that our Heavenly Father says is true: We are beautiful and capable simply because we are his. When we deviate from that belief, we begin underestimating ourselves. Our kids know when this happens and it leads them to do the same, and that can penetrate every area of their life, leading to the very heartache we wanted to keep them from.
This belief in our capacity for great things and great love as God's masterpieces is not a profound concept. It's something that children know and understand; it's why they believe they can be doctors, astronauts, and presidents; they are born ready to accept and give love. This concrete belief becomes an uncertainty when they see brokenness. We distract them from truth with our own fears and false beliefs. Our job is to be their preservationists by filtering our flawed beliefs with the truth of who we are in our Creator's eyes. Behind every hardened, angry, bitter, criminal heart is a child who is a victim of robbery, the truth was stolen from them by someone who struggled so much with their own loss that they had to destroy any reminders of its former existence. This is the human tragedy that starts in the home and ends when we return to our first home, like the prodigal son who finally understands that his Father's healing love is unconditional and perfect.
I am working on fully believing with all my heart that "perfect love casts out fear." In realizing the emotional responsibilities, motherhood can become scary. But in embracing love's ability to cast out fear, we can understand that most of our fears and insecurities are rooted in a wound that, thankfully, perfect love can also heal.
And it took becoming a mother to finally start to get it. Here is something I wrote out of a love for my own kids, what's been a source of instruction an inspiration. I feel honored to call them mine. I can understand why our own Father feels that way about us, I know I can't understand it completely since it is just a glimmer of how we are adored...
I stare at what I've created,
The smaller but better part of me,
for a glare, the evidence of light
proof that I am doing something right.
When I look long enough
I see what can go wrong,
the possibilities.
Turning away isn’t an option,
but I am allowed to blink.
I am allowed to sleep;
never uninterrupted.
And it’s ok to avert my eyes
but I have to look back
Or I will miss
everything.
It’s a masterpiece:
a piece from the master,
on loan.
I can’t afford to make the
payments alone
and I can’t afford to give it back.
There’d be too much to lose,
but I can have it taken from me
at any time.
But I still lose
myself every day
in exchange for more of this,
what lasts
when we are gone;
what holds my gaze and holds me
close and
learns how to run and hide,
in places I’ve never thought to look.
In finding it I find myself
hiding there too.
It’s the gift that begins a new sacrament,
What carries the heirloom of who we are in its expression.
It’s the treasure whose matchless value we tarnish
when we misunderstand our own worth.
It’s what we were meant to love into existence,
The mistake is expecting it to fully exist on anything else.
It’s the smaller but better part of me (and you),
The only heart that ever beat beneath my own,
Whose life now rises above mine
To teach me to love from the greatest heights, without fear.
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