In the middle of her story, she paused, heavily sighed, and said, “I’m just a stay-at-home-mom.”

The group moved on to the next question, yet my mind reeled. I watched this beautiful woman. A daughter of the King. Blessed to be a momma of four beautiful girls.

Her shoulders were slumped, head slightly bowed, as if in shame.

“Just.”

“Only.”
​

It wasn’t that big of a deal. And yet it was.

Pete and I had been asked to give the sermon message for church.

The problem was time. Once committed to something, we are a couple who gives excellence.

However, we had young children at home, limited sleep, and the pressures of just making it through the day in the season of many young physical needs.
​

There once was a girl named Molly. 

The youngest of 5 siblings, she was short, scrawny, and scampering to keep up with the rest. As a result, she often found herself running. And oh, how she loved to run.

As a teenager she joined the school’s cross-country team. Her siblings scoffed at her. They viewed her as someone always trying to keep up, not one who could run.
​
Yet Molly knew the joy running brought to her soul. She’d read about Olympic gold medalist Eric Liddell. ​

I backed out of the garage and glanced at the window.

Pete held Sam in his arms and they both waved. Returning their goodbye, I waved back, and drove down the alley.

Within seconds the tears began to flow.

“What am I doing?” I thought.

The Lord opened an opportunity to speak for a moms group at a local church. Excited and passionate, I’d accepted. 

“On your mark! Get Set!”

The shrill whistle blew. I dove into the water.
The race had begun.

Never the fastest swimmer, I enjoyed it none the less. The long hours in the water were calming to me, a reset for my whole body. 

I enjoyed the water so much, that from my childhood days of swimming lessons, I launched into lifeguard training, and then became a Water Safety Instructor (aka. formal name for swim teacher). I swam competitively, and also as a synchronized swimmer.
​

“Mellany! I’ve found the career for you!” my co-worker, Heidi, exclaimed as she bounded over to my cube.

Stationed in side-by-side cubicles on the 28th floor of a Chicago high rise, I was supposedly in my career. Yet with my boss sitting in his office within earshot, she continued.

“You have to be a life coach! I had my first session last night and every question she asked me you’ve already asked me! This is the career for you!”
​
Launched.

“Okay, Mommy,” my 5-year-old stated confidently. “You’re a good Mommy, so we’ll do it.”

I had just told her we had to wash a hurt with soap and water. This was her response.

Her assurance and trust in my love for her brought me pause.

As I cleaned her up, I thought, “Isn’t that the kind of trust the Lord wants from me?”

Once cleaned up, cared for, loved, my Little One went forth with joy.
​

I snapped.

I don’t remember what I said.

The entire morning I’d been short, impatient, testy. Would everyone please leave me alone?

If I heard “Mooooommmmmy!” one more time I thought I’d scream.

​My husband gave me that look.

It said, “Whoa. That was a bit harsh.”
​

“Just one more! Puuuuuuuush!”

“Waaaaaaaaaa!”

Do you remember that feeling of holding your new baby in your arms?

The pain and turmoil of the last hours melt away into pure love, as you gaze in awe, excitement, and wonder.

You love.

Your child has done nothing to deserve your love.

The one you hold didn’t serve you, perform a good deed, show great character, make the grade, or the team.

Yet, you love.

Your child is yours, and you love because he or she exists, and belongs to you.
​
Do you know that you are loved like this?

“Give yourself a little grace,” my sister-in-law commented as she dumped the dust pan remains into the garbage during our Easter celebration clean up.

It was the second time I heard this message in just four short days.

My healthcare provider had said a similar thing, “Give yourself grace. Support your body physically and emotionally.”

It had been a theme lately.
​