A Mother’s Heart

The night before the kids’ trip to Island Cove, sleep eluded me, as is often the case when my unused, atrophied legs ache and my mind is so active, flitting from one thought to another. No, I wasn’t thinking about problems and worries. My brain just wants to think often even during sleeping time :D. Then added to that was the sadness that hovered over my heart and soul, knowing that I wouldn’t still be traveling with them after heaps of faith and prayers. I spent the sleepless hours praying for their safe travels, not wanting to be disturbed anymore once sleep came. And it did at past 4 AM. When the kids each took turns in kissing me goodbye at 6:30, I didn’t even bother to open my eyes.

A Mother's Heart

I wanted to sleep until noon, that way, I wouldn’t spend too long a time thinking about them going out of town without me and wallowing in loneliness. But at 9:35, I was wide awake. I sat up, hauling my heavy heart. And finally, I gave in to tears.

But I didn’t want to linger in that place too long. Futile. Although, admittedly, my mind wanted to speculate on how it would have been pure delight to hold my children’s hands on either side of me as we walk around the resort, or luxuriate in the cheerful chatter around the table as we investigate the menu, or hear the peals of Tim’s laughter as he enjoys my company in an outing for the very first time. Those are all delicious thoughts but could tear my heart and peace apart. So, I shunned them and went another way. I proceeded with my day and shoved sadness aside.

I was finishing up my watercolor painting of blue Himalayan poppies when I received a text message from my boy using his Dad’s cellphone, “Hi, Mom! I like what you chose for vacation!” He attached an elephant emoji which got me thinking, “Did he really see an elephant there?” But that didn’t really matter for my mother’s heart had soared, shedding off all heaviness!

Tim had another message for me: “I purely had fun out here!”

That was all I needed and my heart was full. The faithful Lord had filled me up once again even in the midst of the desert.

I’ve been ill for 13 years now, some years sicker and weaker, other years, partially recovered and stronger. It’s been a long, arduous journey, but I can’t think of a single time that I had totally relinquished hope and chosen to quit. Even when my soul cried out to be released from all the suffering, my mother’s heart and mind held on and resisted the wave of hopelessness and defeat.

I am a warrior (the tears are coming now). These arms and hands had been engaged in battles long and hard. If Jacob wrestled with God and fought for His blessing overnight that he got a broken thigh in the process, I have been wrestling with God, fighting tooth and nail for my own blessing these past 13 years (crying). Bloodied, many times broken, bruised, beaten, left for dead at times, but still, I stay in the ring with Him.

The mercy that I fight so hard for is the same mercy that would lift me up to my feet every now and then even before the referee has counted to 10.

What holds me down on earth when I could wish to be with the Lord where “God shall wipe away all tears from [my] eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain…” (Rev. 21:4)? It’s my children. I don’t want them to be motherless. I fight for them. I fight for my life. I fight for length of life. I claim God’s promises (He wants us to!). I believe I’m the best person for the job: mothering my own children. Otherwise, why would God give them to me?

So, I hold onto His mercies, to His compassionate heart. He knows the mother’s heart. He understands how it beats. So everyday, I ask boldly, and everyday, I thank Him that I’m still here with my family.

What drove Jacob to wrestle with God all night? He was to meet his brother Esau after so many years. Years before, he fled Esau’s wrath because he stole their father’s blessings intended for his brother. Now, he was scared for his life and those of his wives and children. He needed God to bless him and preserve him and all of his.

It’s the same thing with a mother fighting for her life and all of hers.

I maybe weak and unable to walk and travel, but by God’s grace, I do my best to be a strong presence in our family. I hold down my role as a mother and manage my dominion (our home) with God’s love, wisdom, and guidance. I plan. I direct. I act. All from my throne room that is our bedroom :). No one assists the kids with schoolwork but me. I discipline them through heart-to-heart talks, conversations, and letters. I have appointed myself as their life coach, guiding and teaching them the lessons I’ve learned in all of my 48 years of life. I tell them stories of my childhood, simple yet rich, my growing up years, the hard, gruelling years of high school and college – all of them contributing to the development of my character, who and what I am now.

I shop for our clothes online. Oh, thank God for the Internet and online shops! My Hannah has the habit of resisting my choices, but I have also appointed myself as her stylist (whether she likes it or not) and my husband’s :) . Hannah has no fashion sense (yet). We are not worldly fashionable people (no more of that since we are Christ followers), but she doesn’t have a clue as to what goes well together. I don’t want her going out looking like young Cosette in Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables. I want that the Lord Jesus is glorified in and through her: A blessed child of God.

I train them to read good books. And now that Hannah is more mature, I advise her to read the Bible everyday and other Christian devotionals. Video games are out. I encourage them in the arts and hone their talents. They both play the piano. I teach them many things, but most of all, together with my husband, we do our best to “bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord” (Eph. 6:4).

We teach them gratitude. In this selfish, pampered world of instant gratification, I can see that it’s hard for them to grasp the deep meaning of gratefulness. That kind that emanates from the heart and soul. But we fight for their hearts and souls, too, in prayer. Unceasing prayers, like water that flows interminably on stones, polishing them until smooth and shiny, will do its powerful work on our children overtime.

I cannot count the times that my heart has been wounded by my own people. I had cried in anger, frustration, regret, weariness, disappointment, discouragement, and sheer sadness. But motherhood is a job that you don’t want to quit. And by God’s immense grace, I’m not quitting.

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Journey with Jesus,

Comments

  1. Hazel Moon says:

    Bless you dear sweet heart for shedding a tear and then being able to say, “That is enough.” I recently had to do that also. Your son’s text message was a delight and to let you know he was enjoying your choices for their trip. Your care in dealing with your children and household should put many women to shame. Your daughter will learn fashion as your choices are helping to mold her. I too appreciate the internet for shopping and searching. When I need a short focus for our prayer meeting, I often find inspiration from what others have written. Thank you for sharing your inspiring post with us here at Tell me a Story.

    • RinaPeru says:

      Thank you for your appreciation and encouraging words, dear Hazel. They warmed my heart. Blessings to you.

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