Moms Are Superheros

I hate beef stew and Brussels sprouts. Just ask my mom about the beef stew.

Growing up, what she cooked, we ate. And when beef stew showed up on the table, I would try to sneak off to the bathroom and spit it out. Unfortunately, I wasn’t wise enough to flush it… I spit it into the trash can, where she later discovered it. Busted.

Truthfully, that was about the only thing she made that I didn’t like. Oh… and peas. I definitely hated peas.

Tonight, for no special occasion at all, I made what I would normally save for a Sunday: pot roast, gravy, mashed potatoes, corn pudding, bacon-wrapped green beans, mac and cheese, rolls… and that chocolate chip pound cake. Yum!

Yes. A full carb fest.On a weeknight.

And it was all for our neighbors.

After working all day, I was beyond exhausted. Trying to time everything so it all came out warm at once? Let’s just say I had way too many timers going and still barely pulled it off.

And it made me think…

My mom worked a full-time job and still had dinner (or “supper” as we called it) on the table every single night. We went to church three times a week. The laundry was always done. Our clothes were ironed. The house was spotless.

How in the world did she do it?

It’s funny how we take things for granted when we’re young. You don’t realize the sacrifice, the planning, the exhaustion behind it all.

I am so thankful Andy is perfectly content with a frozen pizza some nights — or we would not have survived 24 years of marriage.

But tonight, serving our neighbors and standing over that stove with timers going off everywhere, I found myself feeling so grateful for the example I was given.

To all the moms — and especially to my mom — thank you. Thank you for showing up. Thank you for cooking when you were tired. Thank you for ironing the clothes and making the meals.

You were (and are) superheroes.

And to the moms who are just keeping their kids alive some days — you are superheroes too. The laundry might not be folded. Dinner might be frozen. The house might be loud and messy.

Give yourself grace. Lots and lots of grace.

Jesus is not measuring your motherhood by pot roast and perfectly timed sides. He sees your heart.

And for the record… kids love frozen pizza.

Just don’t forget to remove the wrapper.