It’s the ordinary, the everydayness of motherhood, that waits for us today.
We wake up in our own beds. Exhausted and refreshed at the same time. Four days of travel and laughing and talking for hours and listening for even more. Four days off from our regular routine where we are used in the most ordinary of ways to care for people we find to be anything but ordinary.
Today we return to feed and clothe and wipe their bottoms. To hug and rock and pick up and dust off. It’s the glory of this Monday that these tasks, and the everyday nature of them, have new clarity of mission. How mothering fits into God’s purposes and our unique calling. And today we live out that reminder with coffee cups in hand.
I will do laundry that has piled up. Dishes that have been waiting. I will go the grocery store to restock the fridge and the cabinet. I will push the car cart as it wobbles past the canned chili and applesauce with girls jumping in and out trying to decide if they want to drive or run. When they run they will sometimes venture beyond where they can see me. And I will call their names and they will hear my voice, familiar though it’s been a few days that we’ve been apart, and they will come running back to home base. Me.
And as I wait in line and promise girls that a penny horsey ride awaits them if they behave for five more minutes, I will remember. The choir of sisters singing. The listening to stories and tears. The words that washed over me to say “just a mom” does not exist. Because “just” means only, nothing else, something insignificant. And all of the reminders that I am more than the chores that await me are fresh on my mind and singed on my heart. That there is a refreshment, a fountain of life that is mine to access if only I hold out my cup to be filled.
This was a weekend to hear my Father’s familiar voice calling me. I think of all of the ways I run to the next aisle to hide. And yet I know that voice of comfort saying “Here I am sweet girl, come back to me.” And I will turn course and head back to home base. Him.
Because every day I run away and back again. Away and back again.
I still need some hours of sleep to feel rested. However I face this Monday refreshed. I held out my cup this weekend and it was filled. And I remember there is nothing ordinary about this life that is mine.
No matter, coffee cup, sippy cup or holy cup in my hands today, it holds my portion and it is for me alone to savor.