My Mothering Mantra

Sometimes while reading the Bible, you just know it.

You know that many moons ago as a man named Paul was writing a letter to a certain church in Thessaloniki that {he didn't know it but} he was really writing to Ashley Beam.

That's how these verses made me feel as I read them in tandem with Sally Clarkson's The Mission of Motherhood:

But we were gentle among you, like a nursing mother taking care of her own children. So, being affectionately desirous of you, we were ready to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves. 

1 Thessalonians 2:7-8

Please understand, I have read these verses dozens of times. Underlined. Studied. Even memorized the latter of the two. But. I never stopped to digest them as a mother. 

Let me just take a minute to take you into my journal.

Dissect.

gentle: affable = friendly, good-natured, easy to talk to; mild

among you: in, by, with, middle, midst

taking care: "cherisheth": to warm, keep warm

her own

affection + desire: to long for, the longing of love

share: impart, communicate

self-giving: "our own souls" - the breath of life; our feelings, desires, affections, aversions

dear: beloved, esteemed, favorite, worthy of love

These verses were written by an unmarried, childless man. 

He had never nursed a babe at his breast.

He was likely not a picture of gentleness. (I didn't know him so I can't say for sure.)

He probably had little experience with the whole son up 'til son down lifestyle. 

But he did understand.

He understood what it took me years of mothering to get.

When we parent like a mother, we will affect eternity. 

Let me take a few steps back. Not everyone who becomes a mom parents like a mother. 

Mothers do not swat their children away when asked to read the same book for the fifteenth time. 

Mothers rarely go to the bathroom alone.

Mothers are known to wake up half a dozen times a night. (Thank God the great earthly fathers do this as well. zzzzzz.) 

Mothers share with their babes the gospel of God.

Mothers share with their babes everything. (1 Thess. 2:8)

Paul knew that if we took notes from mothers while parenting spiritual children (He fathered several spiritual sons: see 1 Timothy 1:2 and Titus 1:4.) that we would yield a fruitful crop for the Kingdom of God. 

I know that if we take notes from mothers while parenting physical children, we will yield a fruitful crop for the Kingdom of God!

So, how does one take notes from a mother? Who shall we look to as a great example? 

My mom? Sure. 

My grandma? Yep. 

A few other women I know? Uh-huh. 

But do you know where I look? 

{Hint: this individual is always right and yes and amen.}

No, He wasn't ever a mother. 

Wasn't even a she.

Never married. 

{Though He never had any earthly kids, I think He's held countless babes through the night.}

His name is Jesus. 

Mother extraordinaire. 

If we are supposed to give our very selves to our children, Christ is our perfect example. He gave His day-by-day, moment-by-moment, breathing life for twelve young men who revolutionized the world. Then He gave what was left on a tree for the whole of mankind.

"Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends." (John 15:13)

My goal as a mother is to give my life to John (and my newbie). 

One hour after his birth, at my breast, I gave. 

This morning at breakfast, one half of my bagel, I gave.

Walking into the bookstore, two hours of bliss, I gave.

Walking out of the bookstore, two new books, I gave. 

Screaming in Target, cookies he wasn't supposed to see, I gave.

Interrupted prayer time, talking about race cars and Daddy, I gave.

Fixing his plate of tacos; he didn't eat, I gave.

I do not share any of this to brag on myself. 

I struggle. 

I often flee my calling to be mother.

No, thank you, LORD. I'd rather dally on the iPhone. 

No, thank you, LORD. I'd rather waste my life.

No, thank you. No more.

I will do this calling justice if it's the last and only thing I do. 

I will be gentle among you, John. Not harsh, not easily angered, not difficult to talk to. I will aim to be your friend. 

I will be like a nursing mother to you. I will take care of you like you're mine because you are. {If I don't take care - and do it with excellence - who the heck will?!?}

John, I am affectionately desirous of you, little boy. You are my joy, my heart, my gift of grace from God Himself. I long for you with the heart and fervor of a mother. Next week, you will be my Valentine. I adore you.

I am ready to share with you the Gospel. I feel the greatest responsibility and privilege to share good news with you, Boop. 

I give you my life. You can suck my time. I am available to you. Four in the morning. I will listen. I am yours.

There's this weird little thing that goes on in my heart, though. 

Sometimes I feel the same way about grown women. 

No, I did not carry Emily in my belly for nine months (though I did give birth on her 21st birthday). 

I have never nursed Jessica Lynn (awkward ... also, she's the only gal I would write that statement about.;)

Mink has called me lots of things, but never Mommy. (Okay, she probably has called me Mommy while playing Baywatch. Note: Mink is my cousin, so I've known her long enough that it was totally cool to play Baywatch together. Right, Lil Steph?:)

I have never said to Meghan or Hannah, "I am affectionately desirous of you."

Oh, but I am. 

You see, this mothering not only applies to physically parenting, but also being the mom (or big sis) in the spiritual family. I count myself blessed to have the opportunity to share my entire life with women who love God.

Nothing fancy about it. Inspired by the divine, THAT is my mothering mantra.

Hugs, Ash

Mama & John waiting to change a poopy diaper at the bookstore. Also? 20 weeks pregnant!