Mother’s Day did not go as planned.
My own expectations mixed with an exhausted spouse only led to disappointment and an argument.
I took the kids to lunch alone.
I forgot to order my own meal.
I cried in the restaurant bathroom.
This was not how it was supposed to be.
My kids tried to comfort me.
“There’s still lots of time.” “Let’s start over again.”
“Come on, Mama. It can still be fun!”
So we all tried to shake it off.
We packed the car.
We did big sighs.
We drove the 40 minutes to the beach with moods shyly testing the waters of happiness once again.
We spread our blanket in the sand and lay there in the sun.
Shoes flung off wildly.
Fingertips raking in.
The kids were throwing a ball.
A seagull crept up on our bread.
I closed my eyes and let God knead then on my heart.
Softer.
Warmer.
More spread out.
I pondered the morning’s service in church.
The pastor had talked about the mustard seed.
How the smallest seed there is can grow into the largest flower.
How things we view as small can become something so much more.
He had showed a video clip of the seeds being harvested and planted and
what they grew to be.
I looked down into my own hand there.
Plain sand grains in my palm.
Roughly the same size as those very mustard seeds he’d shown.
I saw the image there again.
Oh, my tiny grains of faith.
As I sat, Paige brought me bits of shells.
One that became many.
“Paige, Leave Mom alone,” Alena called.
“But, It’s Mudder’s Day,” she smiled.
And as she brought her offerings of love
And I felt the breeze on my face
And I felt the kneading
And I looked at the sand still in my palm
I remembered something that I’d seen.
“Have you guys ever seen a picture of what sand looks like when it’s magnified?”
They all shook their heads no.
“It’s amazing.
It’s not at all what it looks like to the naked eye.
I’ll show you when we’re in the car.”
We went about our average day.
The smiles slowly crept back on.
The joy was once again restored.
And as we loaded, damp and sandy and tired back into the van to head towards home,
Paige’s voice asked to see the sand.
When I pulled up the image on my phone,
My heart heard it clear –
“This moment is your mustard seed”
Because there on the screen I saw
In that small handful of grains
Something that could not be seen when looking with the average eye.
That average looking sand had been transformed into
a handful of what looked like tiny jewels.
And I understood it then.
Those were my mothering days.
Too many to even count.
All seeming the same at a glance.
Often feeling trampled under foot.
Taken for granted as
just
sand.
But to the eye that looks closer still,
each grain becomes a gem.
And those tiny grains, when added up,
form the very foundation on which our family will stand, and play, and run.
Those days that don’t go as we planned,
Those nights that don’t seem like they will ever end,
Those lessons we think just won’t ever sink in –
Those make up our sandy shores.
So look closer into your palm,
sweet mother.
See what it is you hold.
That’s not just sand you’re cupping there.
That is your mustard seed.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
