The braiding slopes of motherhood

Recently, I was reminded of a time at winter camp with some of my youth group. We were up at camp Davidson, near sisters. It was a very cold February with buckets of snow. In fact, the building that once housed "the snack shack" was completely submerged. I was absolutely unprepared. I don't "do" snow and therefore had none of the gear to support such an adventure.

My story begins on the first night of camp. The group of us were headed to chapel, which was in no way an easy task, when all of a sudden my left leg sunk into the snow. It was buried clear up to my hip. So there I am miserable, cold and thinking to myself that I am in NO way suitable to be the chaperone for these teens. After all, I am only 3-4 years older than most of them. My youth girls are trying their hardest to help dig me out. I am doing the same while precariously balancing the urge to laugh and the urge to sob. Along comes this kid who says, "It's much easier if you walk on the path".
At the time, I didn't appreciate his comment very much. In fact, I think I spouted something along the lines of, "WHAT PATH?!" Real mature, right?

Lately though, I have been thinking about that comment and wondering if that kid, wherever he may be, realizes how completely profound and impactual his statement was. As a mom and wife, I often feel like I am back in that snow pack with my leg caught up to my hip. I keep waiting for someone to come by and point out the obvious. I wonder sometimes why life seems so easy for other mothers out there. I hear stories of my friends' mothering triumphs, or see them maneuvering with grace and ease. I look at my life and see mostly controlled chaos. It is during these moments that I realize that the reason life seems hard is because I have chosen a different path for me and my kids.

Truthfully, we all choose our own paths for ourselves. I am choosing a path for my family that does not have a clearly defined road map. If I only wanted survival for my kids, life would be much easier, but I want so much more for them. My biggest desire is for them to grow into respectful, purposeful, and responsible men of God. I realize that only with God's help can that come to fruition. For someone who is a doer, the realization that I am not, nor ever will be, enough is a hard pill to swallow.

The truth of the matter is this, being a parent is the hardest thing I have ever done. I am sure that I will look back, when my kids are grown, and whince a little. No matter how hard I try to do things just right, I know there will be moments of failure. At the end of the day, if I have more triumphs than failures, I will count it as a win. I just hope, after all is said and done, that my boys know how much they are valued.

That brings me back to winter camp. Although the weekend was cold, and in my mind, miserable. There were many bonds that were created there. There was one girl in my youth, in particular, who shared this weekend with me in a very real way. I braided her hair. It is amazing how something so simple can do so much. To her, it was not about the hair, it was an act of love. To her, it said, "you are valuable" and "you are loved". To me, it was the only thing I thought I had to offer these girls. I couldn't buy them splendor. I couldn't take away hurts. One strand at a time though, I could let them know that they were special. They were important. They were valued.

I try to remember this weekend as I go through the tedious tasks in life. Such simple acts as doing laundry or making my husbands lunch are acts of love. These small things in life tell someone how much you value and care for them. If I think of it that way, it is easier to charge into my daily chores with enthusiasm. After all, they serve a much greater purpose.

If I have anything to learn from the boy on the path, it is this: Sometimes the path may not be clearly defined. Sometimes you may get stuck in a rut. Ultimately though, we have to pursue the path that feels right and do our best to conquer it.