My crashing efforts at motherhood sound more like the wild banging of a raggle-taggle band of children, beating crazy and hard on tin cans with wooden spoons, it sounds like recorders mashing their plastic notes together in a mess of jumbled tunes and mixed rhythms.
I thought it would be different.
I thought it would sound more like a symphony, and less like a garage band comprised of three year olds.
I see those women. The ones who are all put together, the ones whose children walk with her through the stores, rather than romp energetic in the aisle. I see their magazine worthy homes, everything in it’s place, while my piles and clutter threaten to be my undoing. Where did all of this stuff come from anyway?
My symphony of motherhood more closely resembles a middle school band class, picking up their instruments for the first time.
How do I do this?
Some days I struggle to get the notes right, I honk and squeak and play at the wrong time. I lose beat and tip my music stand over as I turn pages. I make ridiculous messes. My ligature is at times too tight, and other too loose, and always askew.
I second-guess myself all of the time.
I am trying so hard to keep my eyes on the Conductor, he promises to lead, to shape me up into a real musician someday. I am embarrassingly, easily distracted. There is one who site behind me who plays at this so well. There is another who sits three chairs down who reads her music and her instrument shines.
I get caught up looking around me and I forget to watch for his lead.
I just want to make music worthy of being listened to, worthy of glorifying him.
My expectations of motherhood and the reality of it are miles apart. My reality is noisy and off key. I blow too hard, at the wrong times. Shrill notes pierce my ears, and cringe with embarrassment. Foolishly, I have too many times, been so wrapped up in my own expectations of motherhood, that I miss the bigger picture.
There is so much more grit and glory than I ever knew.
And the Conductor, he reminds me to just keep playing. He tells me to stop looking around and just pay attention to HIM. It takes years of practice, years of watching and reading the music, learning to keep time as he measures it, and patience.
Motherhood is the pinnacle of an unending lesson in patience, and learning to have confidence in Him.
Motherhood is constant, heartbreaking lessons in learning to love.
Therefore do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised. Hebrews 10:35-16
So I remain under his tutelage. Learning at the feet of the master. Struggling to read the music as he has written it for me. Learning when to rest, and when to play. When to play loudly, and when to bring it low. I’m letting go of the need to look around, to not allow myself to be distracted by comparing myself to others.
He reminds me that even my crashing beginners band attempts are music to him, even when it just sounds like a mess to me. He sees through it, he recognizes my effort and blesses me in my learning.
I am learning daily to embrace the noise. I am learning how to cut myself some slack, to just revel in this jumbled up concerto that is my daily life. I love it. It is completely crazy some days, but I do love it. It’s all a gift, every off key note and mis-struck chord followed by a chance to learn and do it better, if only I keep my eyes on Him.
If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. Colossians 3:1-2
*Edited post from the archives.
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