top of page
Writer's pictureBrooke Ramos

What’s In It For Me?


What looks good on the outside often brings out my worst on the inside. Getting to church (almost) on time? I defintiely yelled at someone to get their butt out the door or they would be left behind. Tears were likely shed. Beautiful family photo session? You know bribery was involved, and when that didn’t work I turned to outright threats of no ice cream for the kid who doesn’t smile, plus they’ll have to watch the smilers eat theirs. Cute homemade costumes for all four girls? Late night fights with too much tulle and bitter mornings of resentment as if the kids had asked me to restart three times. Nope, that wasn’t them. Just the critic in my own head.


Two days in a row, two different kids knocked over my delicious, full latte that my husband so lovingly made for me (~10 minute process). Who did I freak out on when it spilled on the rug? My daughter. Who was the lamer that left a dark colored, lidless mug on the floor in the path where everyone walks? Me. Who was to blame? Me.  Why was a spill so upsetting to me? I lost it because I was up late the night before and early the next morning to hand make their costumes and plan out the decorations for the Fall church event. All I wanted was one little something for me. I so desperately wanted that mug of warm fuzzies with a kick of caffeine- my reward for all my hard work.  I’m doing all this for you kid, how dare you spill my coffee in return? And as a textbook oldest child she took on all the blame. When I looked up from my angry scrubbing rant and saw the pain on her face, I melted with shame.


It didn’t take me long to apologize for my ridiculous outburst. She knows I’m not a morning person, so a test of my patience before coffee is a true test. And I failed miserably. I explained how I was mad at myself for being so careless, but like many things in life (or for her, with three sisters) it’s easier to cast blame than to take responsibility. It feeds our flesh and anger in the moment to lash out at the nearest victim, but it leaves us in despair. Bonds that take years to build can be smashed to bits in mere seconds with just the right, wrong words. I went on to tell her it’s why I always quickly shout out, “Slow to speak, Dahlia! Slow to speak!!!” when I hear her start to gear up at one of her younger sisters. It comes from the Bible verse James 1:19-20,

“Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires.”

Anger only leaves destruction in its wake. I know this first hand, and yet it’s a daily struggle with four young girls (especially after 5pm).


What started out as a fun time of creating with all of my girls on the floor of the playroom, surrounded by cardboard boxes and way too many poof balls, had taken a wrong turn somewhere. At one point when the gum ball machine outfit was coming together I actually giggled while I was working. A pure joy giggle matching that of my goofy four-year-old, Stella, when she realizes she just made a robot out of popsicle sticks and googley eyes all by herself.


This costume was for my 9-year-old, Dahlia. It was all her idea and I was just helping her execute it. She has a creative spark that has reignited mine. When I giggled she looked at me oddly and asked what I was laughing at. I simply told her that I had missed this. I used to make their costumes and the games and decorations for their birthday parties when I only had two girls- or during COVID with the third girl (when we all had way too much free time). Then when there was a fourth pregnancy and a bunch of littles in the house my brain became too foggy to be creative and my hands were always full. So it was fun to be sprawled on the floor with the girls, surrounded by strange materials, creating something unique and special (while simultaneously never taking my eyes off the two-year-old with scissors and really great hair). It was an act of love involving both time and attention. I was perfectly content to spend my Saturday working on this.


And then it was Friday. Two days before the big event and I only had a failed attempt to show for costumes 3 and 4. I was frantically overpaying for materials on Amazon and the fun had been zapped out of the process. I lost sight of the point of it all and could only see a to-do list that kept growing while the time kept shrinking.


My cold took a wrong turn and I ended up needing antibiotics, my husband’s travel was taking a toll and he’d been gone all week, the youngest hadn’t taken a proper nap in her bed since…???…from all the coming and going, and I was turning inward. I wasn’t doing my regular quiet time to read my Bible, because I couldn’t quiet the lists in my head, or I didn’t want to. “Just one more load of laundry, and then I’ll be able to focus,” I’d tell myself. And then it would be time for pick up and I’d lose the chance to open my Bible (without 724 interruptions).


I’m human, so after taking care of everyone day after day and putting my wants to the side I find my flesh interrupting with, “What about me?” When is it my turn to take a break from the kids? I only get 6 hours a week alone and this week they were spent at my doctor and the other day was spent doing laundry. Where is my reward and recognition for the seemingly constant service and sacrifice as a mom? I was fed up. I did not feel like doing anything for anyone anymore.


Saturday morning was a frantic mad dash to get everything completed before a birthday party and school movie night. My husband had finally come home the night before and we ignored the poor guy completely the next day over my fixation on getting everything done. The Trunk or Treat creation that started as an exciting endeavor was now turning sisters against each other, because someone wasn’t drawing the leaves on the apples just right. I had forgotten the words, “please” and “thank you” and had resorted to barking orders and grabbing like an angry toddler. My Apple watch probably thought I was working out all day because my heart rate was slightly elevated with the anxiety of trying to get it all done in time.

Too often I let myself get lost and overwhelmed and approach life as a To-Do list. I go way overboard and lose sight of the point of it all. My job as a mom cannot be boiled down to a checklist.

  1. Vacuum under the kitchen table and wonder how more food gets on the floor than in their mouths ✔

  2. Disciple my kids

  3. Put away the 20 random items that are always getting left on the kitchen counter ✔

  4. Love like Jesus

  5. Do 7 loads of laundry ✔

  6. Check my heart because my mouth over flows from it (Matthew 12:34, “For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.”)

  7. Trip over the 5 pairs of shoes by the door (none of them mine) and then chuck them back in their spot ✔

  8. Count my blessings and teach my kids to do the same, because man do I have it easy compared to the majority of the world living in the many forms hardship can take.


If I’m not doing the uncheckable items, I can’t do the checkable items well. Mothering well is more about the state of my mind, heart and soul and less about how much I got done today. When I take my focus off of the Gospel, I lose my focus. I am not my children's savior, but I can guide them to the One who is. I don’t have all the answers, but I know where to turn for them and can teach them to do the same. If I’m not hanging out with God how can I expect to respond with “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness faithfulness, gentleness and self-control” (Galatians 6:22-23) when the days get long? And when I’m running on fumes and think I don’t have it in me to get through dinner dishes, tween emotional turmoil, and bedtime routines I can take a beat hiding in my closet and pray for help because He said,

“Come to me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” -Matthew 11:28-30

The job of “Mom” doesn’t get a star rating or a performance review with the promise of a bonus for a job well done. There’s no immediate prize. It’s a long-term commitment with eternal impact. I’m in it for the long-haul; for the, “Well done my good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:21). However, we do get positive encouragement along the way in the form of funny little voices, full body wrap around hugs, supportive mom friends, husbands who cook and do dishes, and one too many scribbled pictures with way too much glue.


Often times the process is the reward. I spent hours making costumes and cardboard trees for Trunk or Treat. I didn’t set out to win a prize for any of it, I did it to make my girls smile and to bring a Bible story to life. Stella did win a prize for her cupcake costume and when she opened that squishy square cat as big as her and squealed with delight I felt like I had won. Sheer joy, that’s all I was after, and that’s what I got, in a round about sort of way. The process of sprawling out on the floor with the girls while we crafted together and learned about Adam and Eve was the reward. Living life with my girls and my husband in a way that is pleasing to God is what fulfills me. Serving my family and others the way Jesus did is what I’m called to do.

“For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” -Mark 10:45

I’m not here to put on a performance for credit or outside attention. I do these things for my girls as an act of love. When I was young and single I used to tool leather, make jewelry, sew and craft much more often. I didn’t make much for myself. I was often tight on cash, but wanted to express my appreciation for the people I cared about, so I made them gifts by hand. I did crazy things like carving a bike into a leather wallet for my brother and making chess pieces out of nuts and bolts for my boyfriend (who would become my husband- chess is the way to his heart). Now, I make games out of cardboard boxes and stitch holes in dresses. I do it all with the same intention, to love because He first loved me. It’s an overflow of Jesus’ perfect, sacrificial love for me.

“We love because He first loved us.” -1 John 4:19

Sometimes the daily load of being Mom seems unsurmountable and I get overwhelmed, then irritable, and sometimes explode on innocent kids or the unsuspecting husband. So I apologize, step away, and reset with the Gospel. I love because He first loved me. I’m going to fall short because we live in an imperfect world with far from perfect humans, both big and little, but that doesn’t mean I stop trying. I can humble myself before God and ask to be forgiven and for the strength to be better. And then I am set free (mostly from mom guilt).


A mother is not measured by the state of her house or what’s in her kids’ lunchboxes. What matters is the unseen- the relationships, service to one another, the loving because He first loved us. Jesus smiles, and probably laughs, at the family dinner conversation we have while eating chicken nuggets and butter noodles.  He admires the talent of my 9-year-old belting out Christian rap in the shower with serious passion.  He delights in the quiet moments at bedtime when I’m reading their little devotional and answering their questions about prayer. No onlookers, no video recording to share it on social media, just us and Jesus.


As moms we’re often most commendable when no one is looking. Like at 2am when you’re holding your daughter’s hair out of the vomit bowl. Or when you humbly apologize to your daughter for speaking harshly to her and ask for forgiveness. Maybe it’s 8:30p and everyone’s finally in bed and your body wants to collapse on the couch with Netflix and wine, but instead you settle for herbal tea and finish the work you put off to play with the kids. It’s when you comfort a child struggling with friend drama and resist texting that kid’s mom. It’s putting away your phone while you listen to your child tell you about their day with 10,000 extra, totally unnecessary words. It’s making a dinner half the kids won’t eat.

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” -2 Corinthians 4:16

Wasting away is a little harsh to describe us moms, but let’s remember Paul was probably in prison for speaking the truth when he wrote those words. Let’s just say, aging with grace. Point is, this kingdom work is hard work. When I lose my focus I do feel myself wasting away. So I refocus on what is eternal. I’ll never outgrow Jesus and my children will never outgrow me. When I miscarried my second child I still wanted my mom to drop everything and fly down to Mexico City to come comfort me. Of course she did just that. She’s the closest thing I have to a love like Jesus’. I’ll never check Jesus off my list and I’ll never outgrow my mom. If I’m doing this mom thing right my girls will keep Him at the top of their list and never check me off theirs either.

Memere is everyone’s favorite








84 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments

Rated 0 out of 5 stars.
No ratings yet

Add a rating
bottom of page