The Blue Shirt of Motherhood
Go figure. As soon as I declare myself a writer, life happens and I don't get to write. And now, I'm sitting at the computer, with a whisper of an idea in my brain, but not quite sure how to get it out. This may or may not make sense, but hang on and stay with me, because I will eventually get to a point.
I have this blue shirt. It's nothing special, just a shirt. I don't have any particular feelings about or attachments to it. It's just something to wear, then wash. I look good in blue, but that's really all I can say about it. It doesn't quite fit me these days, either the neckline dips a bit too low and reveals too much, or the hem creeps up and exposes my well-earned soft middle area. Some days, it just doesn't feel right. The arms are too tight, or too short, and I fiddle with it all day long, tugging and stretching, trying to make it look and feel the way I want it to look and feel. I never quite get there, and yet I never think about donating it either. I wear it, I wash it, and chuck it back in the wardrobe.
I was thinking about this shirt the other day, and in my mind I likened it to my perceptions of motherhood. You see, motherhood doesn't come naturally to me. I have to work very hard at being the kind of mother that I want to be. Constant reading, researching, planning, tweaking, contemplating, praying, crying, discussing, and so on. It's like the constant fiddling with my shirt. And, like that shirt, motherhood never feels like a perfect fit. At the end of every day I think about what I could have done differently. I wonder if I was enough. I always hope to be a better mother in my tomorrow. I hope to be a better mother just like I hope that shirt will fit better the next time I wear it, and so I put today in the dirty laundry, to be washed and dried by God's grace, love, and mercy, stored in my heart for tomorrow.
Tomorrow I will rise up, put on this shirt of motherhood, and try for a better fit.
Good night,
Sarah
I have this blue shirt. It's nothing special, just a shirt. I don't have any particular feelings about or attachments to it. It's just something to wear, then wash. I look good in blue, but that's really all I can say about it. It doesn't quite fit me these days, either the neckline dips a bit too low and reveals too much, or the hem creeps up and exposes my well-earned soft middle area. Some days, it just doesn't feel right. The arms are too tight, or too short, and I fiddle with it all day long, tugging and stretching, trying to make it look and feel the way I want it to look and feel. I never quite get there, and yet I never think about donating it either. I wear it, I wash it, and chuck it back in the wardrobe.
I was thinking about this shirt the other day, and in my mind I likened it to my perceptions of motherhood. You see, motherhood doesn't come naturally to me. I have to work very hard at being the kind of mother that I want to be. Constant reading, researching, planning, tweaking, contemplating, praying, crying, discussing, and so on. It's like the constant fiddling with my shirt. And, like that shirt, motherhood never feels like a perfect fit. At the end of every day I think about what I could have done differently. I wonder if I was enough. I always hope to be a better mother in my tomorrow. I hope to be a better mother just like I hope that shirt will fit better the next time I wear it, and so I put today in the dirty laundry, to be washed and dried by God's grace, love, and mercy, stored in my heart for tomorrow.
Tomorrow I will rise up, put on this shirt of motherhood, and try for a better fit.
Good night,
Sarah
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