Grace Covered Motherhood

by Elizabeth Stewart

More than likely, the majority of us grew up with mothers that were neither horror movie horrible nor Hallmark card perfection. For most of us our mothers were a blend of both imperfection and awesome bonded together with a generous measure of what we perceived as just ordinary. In our earliest years we could easily see the wonderful. I can clearly remember when I was very young thinking that my mama was the most beautiful woman in the world. As we get older we can become a bit more jaded and aware of and judgmental about our mother's imperfections. I realized that my mama was not the most beautiful woman in the world when my girlfriend down the street invited me into her house and I saw that her mama was beautifully attired in a full skirted dress accessorized with pearl earrings-and on an ordinary weekday! She was dressed just like June Cleaver from the Leave It To Beaver show that was so popular in my childhood. Suddenly my mama in her homemade cotton house dress looked so plain to me. And then I began to notice and judge her for her other "flaws." Mama's love language was acts of service. She worked continuously sewing clothes for me and my six siblings, making us fabulous meals and homemade bread, pies, cakes, pastries and cookies. But my heart wanted Mama to stop working and to hold me and talk to me. Sometimes I'd daydream about what it would be like to have a mama who was more emotionally nurturing.

When I grew up and became a mama myself, I was determined to be the best mama I could be. I must say, I think I earned a solid A+ in good intentions. I read all of the parenting books. I prayed every day that God would help me to be a good mother. I read the scriptures. I tried to be conscious to  kiss and hug and cuddle and snuggle and tell my girls constantly how much I loved them.  My intentions may have been an A+ but my execution was disappointing. I would often end the day praying that God would cover all of the mistakes I'd made that day with His grace.

My own experience with parenting, the reality of my own highs and lows as a mom and my own moments of parental failure, helped me to see my mama less through the judgmental lens of my childhood unmet needs and unhealed hurts and more through the lens of God's grace. I began to appreciate all of the times mama had stayed up into the wee hours to finish sewing our clothes and all of the delicious food she made for us. I began see what fortitude, perseverance, steadfastness and courage that it took for Mama to pick herself up, get a job and focus on raising us kids alone after Daddy left her for another woman when I was nine. I began to realize how much she'd had to deny herself in order to make raising us kids to adulthood her priority. I recalled that she, haltingly at first, began to try to communicate her feelings more when I was a teenager. She became quite fluent in the language of hugs and kisses and words of affirmation with her grandkids! I began to appreciate my mama for what she was and to forgive my mama for what she failed to be.

My Mama was not horror movie horrible nor was she Hallmark card perfect. She was a blend of imperfection and awesome blended together with a generous measure of what I perceived as just ordinary. I suppose the same could be said about me. We are both, like most of us imperfectly awesome, ordinary mothers, very in need of and oh, so very thankful for God's grace that covers all of our failures and mistakes.

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