Embracing Real Moms

On this beautiful Mother’s Day, as I enjoyed the many Mother’s Day greetings of friends and the lovely photos of mothers and daughters at Mother’s Day teas and outings, my mind went back to an old children’s book first published on January 1, 1922. The Velveteen Rabbit, written by Margery Williams and illustrated by Charles Santore may not seem like a Mother’s Day book, but it struck a chord with me, because it talks about real.

Not that all the wonderful pictures and greetings I saw aren’t true, but I know so many stories behind those smiles. I know about the everyday lives of moms. I know about sick kids and hectic schedules. I remember impossible house chores and difficult personalities. I know about heartache and sorrow, and that’s what made me think of the velveteen rabbit.

You see, The Velveteen Rabbit tells the story of a stuffed bunny. He becomes real as he is loved by the little boy who owns him. His fur is loved off. His whiskers are loved off. He loses his shape and becomes pudgy as the little boy sleeps with him and plays with him and carries him everywhere. He gets smudged and dirty and becomes frumpy. The little boy doesn’t notice any of this, though, because he loves the rabbit. The rabbit becomes real.

I won’t finish the story. If you don’t know it, you can read it on your own. My point is that moms as they raise their children become real.

While Mother’s Day celebrates the beautiful spirit of motherhood, the real glory of mothering lies in the trenches of everyday when moms are wrestling children into shirts and teasing them into eating broccoli. These moms clean up after babies’ spit up, and rock sick children through the night. They have dark circles under their eyes, but they still sing lullabies and laugh at silly knock, knock jokes. They get a little pudgy from cleaning up the leftovers on their children’s plates, but that just gives them softer laps for snuggling.

Moms go to baseball games and soccer games when they never played a sport. They wash uniforms so stained that it looks like field camouflage.  Moms play games and laugh, even when they are tired from working all day. They cook meals that they know their children will eat, and they know exactly what their children will and won’t eat.

Moms sit in hospital rooms and research medical terms. They wait. They entertain. They hope. They learn to talk down doctors to make sure their babies get the very best care, and they pray. Man, do they pray.

When I look at the cards in the stores, I don’t see many that show the real moms, but I know they are hiding behind the beautiful bouquets and nice clothes. Not many of the sentiments say, “Thanks, Mom, for cleaning up after me when I threw up all over you at the ball game,” or “Thanks, Mom, for holding my hand when I was too scared to walk into the school by myself.” I bet, though, that your mom remembers. You probably remember a time like that, too.

To the moms out there who are feeling smudged or pudgy or frumpy, just know it’s okay. It means you are a REAL mom.

And that is an amazing person to be.

She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.²⁸ Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.²⁹ Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all (Proverbs 31:27-29).