"Because God needed someone to love the least and the little into real whole people, and He knew that to love is to suffer so God made a mother.
God had said – I need someone to get up at midnight and scoop the most fragile of humanity close to her warmth and rock though she can hardly stand and nourish though she’s mostly sleep-starved and change the diaper and the sheets and the leaked on, leaked through, and leaked down clothes though she’ll have to change them in the morning and next week and that won’t change for years.
So God made a Momma.
That God had said I need somebody with a strong heart.
Strong enough for toddler tantrums and teenage testing, yet broken enough to fall on her knees and pray, pray, pray.
Someone who knows that in every hard place is exactly where you extend grace, who looks a hopeful child in the eye and says yes, even though she knows every yes means a mess but this is how you bless, who has the courage to keep letting go because she’s holding on to Me.
So God made a momma.
God said I need somebody who can shape a soul and find shoes on Sunday mornings and get grass stains out of Levis.
And make dinner out of nothing and do it again 79, 678 times, and keep kids off the road and out of the toilet and in clean underwear and mainly alive though she’s mainly losing her mind and will put in an 80 hour week by Wednesday night and just do one more load of laundry.
And one more sink of crusted burnt pots.
And keep on going another eighty hours because raising generations matters and weaving families matters and tying heart strings matters and these people here in hidden places matter.
So God made a momma…
It had to be somebody who could comb back pigtails and tie up skates just-right tight.
Who could pretend she remembered algebra and how to get home from here and that really, she was just fine, that it must just be the silly onions.
Somebody who would run for the catch, jump on a trampoline and play one fierce game of soccer and not give a thought to all those labors and her weak pelvic floor. Somebody who’d stay up late with a science project that never ends, who’d get up early for the game in the rain, somebody who’d wave at the door until the taillights were out of sight and still be smiling brave.
So God made a momma.
It had to be somebody willing to keep loving when it made no sense because that’s what love does.
Somebody who knew that life is not an emergency but a gift — so just. slow. down. There are children at play here and we don’t want anyone to get hurt and the hurry makes us hurt.
Somebody willing to feed and lead, lay down her life and pick up her cross, give of her time because they have her heart. Someone who knows that we all blow it — and what matters is what we then do after.
Someone who could humble herself into the tender sorry that covers a multitude of sins.
Someone who would live like a Giving Tree — who would give grace, give life, and give thanks — eucharisteo: the giving thanks for every grace that gives back always joy.
Someone who would stand in the mess and the midst and give thanks anyways — because eucharisteo always, always, precedes the miracle of discovering that the Giver Himself is always, always more than enough.
Someone who would live it a thousand times: Give thanks — and discover that the Giver Himself is the Gift and He alone is always, always enough.
Someone who would pour out and bend down and surrender not only to the physical pain of childbirth but the far deeper, unending heart pain of letting go, letting go, letting go – from the womb, from the arms, from the front door. Someone who would know that umbilical cords can be cut — but heart strings never can.
Someone who’d bow her head at night over the girl sleeping with the doll in the crook of her arm — and give thanks to her Father for this hidden life that’s turning a gear for the whole spinning world.
So God made a momma.
You." ~ Ann Voskamp
Another part that really resonated with me and what I've learned on my journey so far is "somebody who knows that life is not an emergency but a gift - so just. slow.down." I would add slow down and count your gifts. No matter how hard the day, there are always gifts to be counted (ie. my child is healthy, the sunshine, the cool breeze, the cute thing my child did or said today and so on). Lately, I've taken to calling Lincoln both my angel from Heaven and my most precious gift. (Well all 3 of my boys are my most precious gifts but you get the idea). The bond you will share with your precious baby boy, especially in the 1st year is unlike any other. He will love you in a way that only a little being completely dependent on you can. Yes, he will love Daddy and grandparents and consins and so son, but nobody else will be like Momma. For a fleeting time, you get to be his whole world and it is both a terrifying responsibility and a wonderful reality. So get ready (not that you really can) for your biggest life change. James 1:17 says "Every good and perfect gift is from above." Your baby is certainly a perfect gift, of all the gifts you'll count, your most precious.