There aren’t many things that can move me to instant tears. Like I’m fine and solid one moment and a heart-aching blubbering mess the next.
I find myself being aware of it more and more. Perhaps its just my position in this season of life. Perhaps I’m getting old and soft. Perhaps it’s God working on my heart to see people differently. Perhaps it’s D. All of the above.
So here it is. The thing that can bring instant throat choke and tears a-flowing. Looking at someone, anyone, and realizing that they have a mama. That they are someone’s child. That somewhere there is a mom worrying in her living room. That there’s a mama praying that her child will be safe. That there’s a mama questioning whether she should have done things differently. Whether she was too hard, or not hard enough on her child that one time.
It doesn’t really matter to me if you’re the person in front of me at the grocery store talking too loudly, a random wanderer meandering town with all of your possessions in a shopping cart, an Olympic medalist or a student trying to make their way in med school. Whether your traveling Europe to ‘find yourself’, being helicopter’d to the top of a mountain to drop in on your snowboard, walking onto a stage for the first time or throwing a tantrum in the walmart parking lot.
Each of these has a mama. A mama who may have nurtured and influenced in what their child is doing. Or a mama who didn’t and so this is where you are. A mama who tried for years to conceive you or a mama who got pregnant by mistake. A mama who worked tirelessly to give you all you needed and more or a mama who made the hardest decision of her life and passed you on to another mama who she thought would be better. A mama who loves you whether she knows you or not, or whether she shows it or doesn’t know how. A mama who may be as mixed up as you or even more. Or a mama who may have it all together but even still that mama, I have no doubt, is always wondering how her babies are, who they’ll be, what they’ll become.
As a mama of three boys I can’t imagine at this stage what my boys will be. What they will do with their lives. Will they get married and have beautiful little babies or will they be in school for 27 subsequent years after highschool. Will I long for them to strive harder or wish they’d settle down just a little bit? Will I be the one they call when they break their leg on the mountain even though they’re 24 or will I still be there riding beside them cheering them on or will I have not heard from them in years.
These are questions that simply can’t be answered right now. Nor should they be. If we knew the outcome it would change how we do things today and we would no longer have to rely on our guts, on making decisions that are hard but that we think are right in the moment. We wouldn’t have to go through the process of realizing we were wrong. We wouldn’t pray near so much.
My boys keep me coming before the Lord more than any other single thing in my life. I have a feeling that this won’t change anytime soon. If ever.
So when I look at people in this world and think about their mama – who she is and what she’s done and how proud she is of her child or how many times she’s pleaded for their safety, well-being, or soul, I can’t help but be moved to tears. It makes me see people differently. As belonging to someone instead of just an individual navigating this world. Someone who belongs to someone. Tears. Instant-tears.