I was going to put this post up two days ago, 10 July 2015, my mum’s birthday. I wanted to put it up to celebrate my mum for all the things that she is to me. She is one person in my life of whom I can always say, “She is FOR me.” The older you get, the more impressing such a thought is, because most people are not actually against you…they’re just FOR themselves. To find someone who is consistently on your side, who would march naked to slay fire-breathing dragons on your behalf, who would starve so you can drink in excess, is more than a gift. It is an indulgence from Heaven’s highest favour-tree.

So I WAS going to put that post up celebrating the young lady, and then something happened. One of my best friends and favourite people in the universe, Anne, gave birth to a little baby boy…on the 10th as well! What an absolutely special day! So I’ve decided to celebrate two excellent women at once.

Anne’s pregnancy had ME feeling like I was pregnant! There were exciting days imagining what this little one might look like; what will a mix of his parents faces look like? What shade of brown would this little one be? What do you think his moods might be…strong and reticent like Anne or as passionate about life as his father? There were emotional days, trying days. We had days of worrying, I had moments of prayers; silent calls to heaven to mobilise angels on my friend’s behalf!! Oh we had days! And just like that, he’s here! This little thing we prayed and agreed and trusted God for! How fantastic, how faithful, how awe-inspiring is this God that we serve? The gift of crafting perfection is all His. The whole process of pregnancy and childbirth is honestly a miracle from start to finish! To think that every single day, He creates one little being after another with tiny fingernails, a little heart, a powerful mind capable of independent thought.

God, you are amazing.

The older I get, the more I realise that motherhood is really a calling. The capacity to be a good mother is not something automatically gifted to you while you wait in line for a womb at Creation. When I think of my mother’s tireless dedication, uncountable sacrifices, her absolute commitment to my happiness, her selfless ability to silently delay her hopes and dreams indefinitely so that mine may be fulfilled, I am terrified. Can I love so selflessly? Am I willing to love so unconditionally, past a toddler’s rage, teenage angst and youthful condescension? Can I? Am I built with that bottomless abyss of love to continually lift my soul’s bucket and scoop out love after love after love to pour, unendingly, on my children and husband…even when all I really want to do is crawl under a blanket and cry?

Add to that the fact that as soon as you become a mother, all your choices matter. Yes, even the tiny ones. Essentially, your entire life becomes the glasses through which your children view the world and can make the difference between young Johnny being featured on Crime TV: Born to Kill (the mums ALWAYS get blamed) or CNN Heroes. To have another human being ENTIRELY reliant on you…you who is still trying to figure out life, you rising and falling and just now finally getting your bearing a little? You with the forever lost car keys and the questionable driving, you with the conflicting thoughts and confusing mind?

You?!

It’s frightening. Yet such a unique privilege to guide and guard, to lead and to love another.

My mother lives a good example for my sisters and I. My mum is one of a kind. She is an absolute gift to me. She isn’t typical, she isn’t soft, lol, in fact she looks very hard but she’s actually really an Éclair…she looks tough but inside she is soft and warm and very sweet. Often I think about how powerful her example is for my sisters and me. My mother is the one person in the world that I know is unequivocally her authentic self; her character is consistent regardless of where she’s placed. She’s the first person I saw in my life park her car on the side of the road to stop and fight for someone who was being unjustly treated…when she could have just continued driving. No one would have judged her…but she understands that she owes it to herself first. And I love that my mum does things like that because that’s just truly who she is, she doesn’t even think she has done anything major or set a big example for anyone.

And that’s one reason I think Anne’s baby must be truly beloved by God, to be chosen out of all the children in heaven’s factory to be placed in Anne’s care, is truly favour of a divine sort. Anne is uncompromising in who she is. She will casually side-step irrational rules with a grace and absolute nonchalance that will leave the rule-creator confused. And it’s in these small things that our mothers teach the real lessons of life, they teach us that fortune favours the brave, that life doesn’t wait on you, that a woman must first know herself to understand another, that the greatest injustice is to compromise your very self.

So today, two days late, I celebrate great mothers. The ones who wear the crown title, “Mummy” a term so full of endearment, heaving with confident trust, bursting with hope. ‘Mummy’, the adult version of the desperate sound a baby makes the moment he realizes his super hero has landed…with the ability to frighten frightening nannies, and at old age, with the wisdom to put life’s worries in perspective. ‘Mummy’ is space to ventilate, to create, to gist, to strategise…to be myself. When I come home and shout, “Mummy!” and she answers, I know at once a peace and a safety that is incomparable. That’s the power of a mum. So motherhood, gift or grace…? Or lifelong vocation without vacation?

I think it’s a calling.