grace.

The other day, my sweet cousin shared this article on facebook: 20 REASONS I'M NOT A COOL MOM

What was meant to be a light-hearted post on mothering made me see red. So I've been thinking about it. What about this post grinds my gears so much? Sure, maybe it was a little harsh but I normally like sarcastic, dry humor. I'm not easily offended. But this, for some reason really upset me. I guess it was the way this writer seemed to scoff at the way some people "parent" their children. Like their choices as parents were an attempt to be "cool" (scoff, scoff) and not the way they have found to best love their children. But then I realized, this had very little to do with her words and everything to do with my own insecurities and struggles as a mama.

Trust me, I had this parenting gig ALL figured out...and then God gave us Harper. And I've come to realize that I don't "parent" her well at all. I love her. I guide her. I protect her. I teach her. But she is an individual; a member of this family (albeit a very young and very stubborn one). We set obvious rules but we're also learning as we go. That's what works for our family. It's not the way I thought it worked. I thought motherhood would be about routine and schedules and a baby that responded and molded into the child I "parented". I was wrong. And I would never want to force her into being the child I want rather than loving & nurturing the soul God has already created her to be.

For You created my inmost being;

You knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully & wonderfully made;

Your works are wonderful,

I know that full well. 

-Psalm 139: 13-14

And while my description may sound like a flimsy & possibly even lazy parenting approach, let me assure you, it is quite the opposite. It is HARD to grow with her. It is SCARY to not have all the answers in this - the most important job of my life. But it is what it is. This was a tough pill for me to swallow. You see, before I became a mother, I was a results-oriented person. My world revolved around a (false) truth that if you put in the right amount of time, dedication and work, you would get the results you wanted. Sports teams, honor roll, college, grad school, marathons, even relationships...up to this point, my experiences had reinforced this belief.

Enter Harper Grace Stanton. When I was pregnant, I exercised, took classes, did yoga, took more classes, & read books so that I would be totally prepared for labor. I remember one of my last appointments talking to my OB and I looked her straight in the eye and said, "I want to be really really good at this". Like labor is an olympic sport. She laughed at me. Rightfully so. Bless my heart. After some scary scans and almost 24 hours of being, frankly, awful at labor, Harper joined this world via c-section. And it seems each challenge following that was met with the same sense of "failure" on my part. Breast feeding? fail. Sleep training? holy moly, FAIL. Bouncing back to my pre-baby body? uh huh, sensing a trend here. So for a very long time all I could see were these failures and honestly, I missed out on the beauty that was unfolding before my very eyes...amidst a few challenges were many many successes: a wonderfully bright, strong, healthy, sweet little girl had joined our family. And this had very little to do with me putting in the right amount of time, dedication and work and everything to do with the grace of God.

I love that her middle name is Grace. In the past two years, the word has evolved to mean so much more to me that it did the day we decided on it as our girl's middle name. Grace was always a lovely word to me. A nice thought. Graceful was a virtue I attached to my grandmothers and ballerinas. Something I aspired to be like. But the word started to stir in my heart and when I heard it in JJ Heller's song, Painted Red, started to mean something more.

Hope means holding on to You // Grace means You're holding me too. 

According to wikipedia, grace is defined as:
"the love and mercy given to us by God because God desires us to have it, not because of anything we have done to earn it", "the condescension or benevolence shown by God toward the human race". It is understood by Christians to be a spontaneous gift from God to man - "generous, free and totally unexpected and undeserved".

When I stop to think about it, my whole experience of motherhood to date has been an experience of grace. I don't deserve it. It is a gift from God. It is a lesson in love and mercy. Every single day. When she looks at me with those big blue eyes and says "I wub you mama", or rests her head on my shoulder, my past failures are washed away & my heart becomes a little more grace-full.