Maybe.

I remember when I first started this whole wild and crazy journey almost nine years ago.
I remember how I felt.  And I remember what I believed.

I remember loving my job and never wanting children.
I remember being noticed, and I remember liking that.
I remember that in "the real world" -  by the end of the day I had a noticable, obvious check-list of things that had gotten accomplished...and I remember feeling pretty good about that.

I remember when little kids scared me.

I remember that never a day went by where my hair was not done and my teeth were not brushed.
My house was immaculate - at all times.  And I remember being proud of that.

I remember what I believed to be "important."
And I remember going to the bathroom all by myself.

I remember when our car was clean.
And I remember when I could fake perfection.

I remember when I had no stretchmarks.
And when I drank my coffee - it was always hot.

I remember cooking by myself...with very, very minimal mess...

I remember seeing Mama's - frazzled, toting babies - tired through the grocery store.
And I remember what I used to think.

I remember believing that I would never survive being "stuck at home" all day with little kids.
And I remember thinking that wiping tears and washing bums would never be for me.

I had more "important" things to do.
A more important "someone" to be...

And so when we dove headlong into this whole parenting gig, I remember thinking that I could be supermom and have everything else on my plate - and still do it all well, besides.  And then I remember being challenged that anyone else could do any one of those other important things that I thought I had to do.....but no one else could be my baby's mother.

I remember reading novels...without pictures.  Just for fun.

And I remember living large in a world addicted to speed - teaching, coaching, singing, and leading youth.  And then I remembered that hurry makes us hurt....and whereever I am, I should be "all there"...and I have this one wild and precious life...and while I race and rush for more -- what is it exactly that I'm hunting for?  Who is it exactly that I am trying to impress?  And who determines what is good and what is right?  What is the true mark of success and what will gain accolades from the only One who matters in the first place?

"Life is not an emergency.  Life is brief and it is fleeting, but it is not an emergency." ~ A. Voskamp

And, maybe - just maybe - if Jesus said "suffer the little children...because of such is the Kingdom of Heaven...." maybe this life of wiping tears, and teaching souls, and tending hearts and of "doing unto the least of these" day after day after day...

I remember saying I hated all things messy...

Maybe this is greatness?
Maybe the lies that we listen to and the conclusions that we come to aren't what really matter in life after all?
And maybe society has it all backwards?

Maybe on the night before He died, when Jesus chose to be the servant and wash his loved one's feet -- maybe that one event mirrors well what Mama's do each day?  Maybe these days of sleepless nights, and baby spit upon shirts, and missed days of showers...these years of molding lives and of hearing hearts - all within the four walls and behind the closed doors of our homes - where maybe no-one else will ever see...these days of living life raw in front of countless pairs of watching little eyes...

These days of mess-ups and of mishaps...
Of crazy and of chaos...
Of messy and of mundane...

I remember when it took 30 seconds flat to get myself outside the door...

Maybe God can baptize all of these things and make them into something Holy.
Something eternal.

Maybe, wherever we are - just being "all there" - in the moment, really seeing, stooping low, and humbly walking...maybe these seemingly unimportant, mundane, days of repetative re-doing what is continuously getting undone - this bringing order back from chaos over and over again - are reflections again of a Father's heart and of what He does for us - His kids - each and every day of life, as well.

Maybe remembering what Jesus did - and has always done for us is a whole lot better than remembering what we used to think was important so many years ago...back before we knew just a little bit less than we know now.

I remember when I used to only do 1 load of laundry a week...instead of one a day...

Because maybe an immaculate house isn't nearly as important as one that's full of happy, secure children.
And getting a shower is far less important than rocking a feverish little boy.
And apologizing to your eight year old is a whole lot better than saving face.
Maybe changing diapers is maybe really more about little hearts and tender souls.
And teaching kindness might not bring in a paycheck - but it's eventual payout has unlimited potential that might not be seen on this side of Heaven.

I remember playing this as a little girl myself...

Maybe what Jesus views as important is wildly different than what we thought to be so.
And the "important ones" in life - aren't the ones with all the stars.
Maybe we have worried far too long about who we should be really striving to impress.

And maybe this career change into parenthood - and this journey of motherhood - truly is a sacred enterprise. 

And then I remember this:
"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me." ~ Jesus (Matthew 25:35-36)

Who gets hungrier than newborn babies and growing children?
Who is more naked than a newly birthed baby?
How many times over the course of their lives do our little ones get sick?
And who is a stranger - more - than a baby being born into this world knowing no-one?

I remember when my kitchen table used to only sport a vase of flowers.

Maybe, measuring the success of our productivity by the world's standards is an exercise in futility.
And maybe, though motherhood comes with no pay raises, few accolades, and perpetual re-dos day after day after day...

Maybe these are the years of getting our bodies back, and of living with spit-up as our perfume of choice, and of days where showering is optional...

And maybe we feel like a fish out of water, and big fat failures more often than not...

But maybe, also "whatever we did unto the least of these...we did unto HIM."

And maybe all of our faltering failures, our daily slip-ups, and our fumbling through these years of learning and growing together - us and our small young teachers....who daily show us our faults and our inadequacies, our insecurities and our flaws ever glaring...

Maybe these are holy moments - and maybe they are OUR teachers far more than we are theirs.

I remember when I didn't have p.j. every day of my LIFE for lunch...

And maybe God doesn't miss a second of this sacrifice.
Maybe He sees this career shift as something sacred.  Something holy.

Something of Eternal value.
Maybe His grace covers so much more than we ever thought or believed.

And maybe Satan doesn't want us to remember that...
But maybe we should.