Until last night, I had almost forgotten how necessary I am.
Finding myself in a week full of insecurities about my lack of academic credentials and my long list of professional disqualifications to fight on the front lines of injustice, my role in this world seemed so very small.
My wake-up call came right before lights out. We were transitioning one man child from snuggles in mama's bed to a full night's sleep in his when his belly erupted in fits and bursts.
Bent over toilet, rinsing soiled sheets where no muddy fingers or wrinkled toes would ever touch, I realized this was a uniquely mother skill. Without pausing to think or ask about the hows and wheres of taking care, I just moved in the rhythm of mother.
Hours earlier, I had extended an impromptu invitation for my youngest's inaugural sleepover and I helped foster friendship for a lonely daughter.
Pulling kids from under beds retreating from their world to sulk, I had breathed confidence and possibility back into deflated hearts.
Listening through insulated walls for the rise and fall of congested chests, I am mama with superhero powers.
Bending low to rest her head on mine, patiently I teach the crunching of numbers so there is no punching of walls.
Good mothers have these skill sets, but these are not set skills.
The learning curve is exponential, on-the-job training an ever constant education. They are no more intrinsic than they are limiting; they are strengths and gifts sought out and applied to young hearts and lives, the continual birthing of life metamorphosing into beauty and strength within the bosom of a mother.
The world needs us, the world needs mothers such as you and me. Growing wee ones by our professions of love, we offer into world the fruit of our profession...
We are, I am...mama.
Joining here today, in 5 minutes writing on what comes to heart and mind when I consider Identity.