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Fill ’Er Up

(( love ))

“There really are places in the heart you don’t even know exist until you love a child.”

— Anne Lamott

I used to think love was all about good feelings, but then my six-month-old threw up on me.

Now, this wasn’t just run-of-the-mill infant spit-up, mind you. This was completely out-of-the-blue, large-volume, straight-to-the-face, down-the-shirt, into-the-bra, real person puke.

I think we were both a little shocked. I looked at my daughter, and she looked at me. I’m not sure if it was the act of vomiting for the first time that upset her, or the horrified look on my face, but she began to cry. In that moment, I was simultaneously repulsed beyond belief yet filled with overwhelming compassion for this poor, helpless kid. I pulled her closer to me, saying, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Mama’s here. You’re okay,” while five-alarm sirens blared in my head, shrieking: “RUNN AWAAAAY! SAVE YOURSELLLLF! THE END IS NIIIIIIGHHH!”

After a bit, she calmed down, and then we did the next loving thing: we hopped in the shower for a good, long while.

And I could be wrong, but I like to think that my heart grew three sizes that day, sorta like the Grinch of Seussian lore. I was beginning to understand what real love looked like. It wasn’t always pretty, but it was persistent.

There was no question that I loved my husband—enough to enter into a covenant relationship in front of God and the priest and my parents and everybody. But when Ava Madeleine was born, it was like the faucet that regulated my capacity to love was cranked up to full blast, until it reached geyser level. I didn’t even know this kid well yet, but I had the distinct understanding that I would literally throw myself in front of a truck to keep her safe. This was new territory for me.

Comedian and writer Amy Poehler said of motherhood: “I love my boys so much I fear my heart will explode. I wonder if this love will crack open my chest and split me in half. It is scary, this love.”

And she’s right. It can be scary. But, at least in my case, so was driving for the first time. And the first day of school. And my first date. And having someone calling me “Mom.” Scary, but also exciting. What I’ve found is that, if we ask, the Holy Spirit will equip us with the strength and courage we need to accomplish whatever we need to do according to his will, including hugging little girls (and/or boys) who just puked all over us.

No greater love has a mom …

Maybe you’ve heard this saying: if you want to know what real love is, look at a crucifix. I’ve heard it, too, and I remain humbled and eternally grateful that the Creator of the universe loved me enough to die. What I didn’t know was that it would be through my calling as a wife and mother that I would truly understand what it meant to die to myself for the sake of another—for the sake of love.

A funny thing happens when you begin traveling this road to holiness called motherhood: lots of things change. At least, they did for me.

Suddenly, I was thinking about someone else’s needs as more important than my own. Did the baby get enough to eat? How many wet diapers has she had? Did we forget her blankie? Is she breathing?? Meanwhile, I wasn’t really eating so well myself, or going to the bathroom on my own, or remembering my name or what day it was due to severe sleep deprivation. For the record, I do NOT recommend this model of postpartum recovery, as it’s completely ridiculous and totally unsustainable. If you want to know how to really do it right, search online for “how to postpartum like a boss” and see what my friend Blythe had to say about it over at her blog, The Fike Life. I promise you’ll thank me (but especially Blythe).

Anyway, it wasn’t as if I’d never put others’ needs before mine, of course, but this was exponentially different. This little baby girl needed so very much from me at all times and couldn’t do a thing (save the occasional gas bubble I decided to believe was a smile) to repay me for my efforts.

And the crazy thing was, other than wishing I could actually sleep for a few hours in a row, go to the bathroom in peace, and fit into my pre-pregnancy anything, I was okay with it. Glad, even! What a miracle! What a blessing! My husband and I had created, with God’s help, another human being! We were totally, thoroughly, head-over-heels in love. We were also totally, thoroughly, orange-juice-poured-into-the-cereal bowl exhausted.

It wasn’t long before I wondered whether I would ever feel like a real human being again.

Over the years, I’ve heard a lot of talk around the concept of the “Martyr Mom.” You know—a well-meaning friend tells another friend, “Don’t be a martyr!” And what she means is, “Quit sacrificing your mental, physical, and spiritual health on the altar of perfectionistic, Pinterest-worthy motherhood!” For the record: I agree 100 percent. I am fully and completely on board with moms taking care of themselves. And I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Love your kiddos and your husband and your neighbors as you love yourself. I encourage all mothers everywhere to do what they need to do to soak up God’s love whenever and however they can. I do not advocate taking on more than you can handle, because I’ve been there, and it is not a good road to travel. It leads to much crash, lots burn.

What I’m suggesting is this: sacrificing our own wants and desires for the good of our children in motherhood is bound to happen, whether we’re ready for it or not. It’s kind of part of the job description. So, how about we moms decide to reclaim the word “martyr” and restore it to its original glory? A martyr is someone who dies—whether physically or in a spiritual sense—for his or her Christian faith. But the word martyr doesn’t mean “dead.” It means “witness.” A martyr is one who bears witness to the Gospel. As mothers, we are frontline witnesses. We bear witness to Jesus Christ in our children’s lives; we bear witness to other moms, encouraging one another in our common sisterhood; we bear witness to God’s strength, glory, and power, even if we can’t see it sometimes through the muck and the mire of everyday living. We moms can bear witness to our faith precisely through our calling to motherhood, every time we die to ourselves by performing acts of love for our very own “least of these”—our children.

Call me an out-of-touch throwback, but if we’re using this reclaimed definition of “martyr,” I’m in. I want to be a martyr. I want to be a witness. I want to be someone whose life testifies to the love of God in my marriage and in my motherhood. It would be ludicrous to think I can do it on my own, broken, weak, and sinful as I am. But if I allow Jesus to take the wheel of my heart, and the Holy Spirit to be the motor animating my actions? Hallelujah! I wonder what a witness I could be.

Yes, Mom, I was listening

Growing up, my parents frequently told me, “Love is not a feeling—it’s a decision.” And when I say “frequently,” I mean I heard it about a million times. And yet, even into my newlywed years, the concept of human love being anything more than good feelings flew right over my head. In all those years, I must have done something because of love rather than duty, guilt, shame, or what I’d get out of it, but I still didn’t understand that love was a choice that I could make.

Until I was a mom.

They say the longest distance in the world is the ten inches from the head to the heart, and that certainly rings true. In my case, however, covering that distance took precisely 21 ¾ inches and a little more than nine pounds of baby.

Let’s take a slight detour here for a moment. How much did you know about driving a car, really, before you sat behind the wheel? If you were like me, prior to taking the test for your driver’s permit, you probably read the manual. You might even have studied it. And hopefully you passed. For me, it wasn’t until I actually had my hands at ten and two on the steering wheel (that’s how we did it when I was a kid) and my foot hovering over the gas pedal with my dad riding shotgun that it hit me: “Wow. This is a big deal. I better take this seriously.” In other words, it was personal. I was calling the shots. I was accelerating and braking and turning and avoiding potholes and pedestrians. If I ever wanted to pass the driving test and get my license, I was going to have to demonstrate that I was a competent driver. And I learned to drive by … driving. I practiced. My dad was my coach from the passenger seat, but I was the one behind the wheel. I had to choose to do it.

Now, as the mom of a teen itching to get her driver’s permit, the thought of fifteen-year-olds cruising around on the highways and byways scares the poop out of me. I don’t think I’m alone in my anxiety.

Here’s the point: To genuinely show love to those around us, we have to practice being loving to them—not just in our words, but in our actions, too. Those fizzy, fluttery, twitterpated, lovey-dovey feelings may be MIA, but we can choose to do the next loving thing anyway. And I’ve been around the block enough times to know that it’s tough to flip a U-turn with my behavior when my thoughts are angry, unkind, and resentful. I have to choose to shore up my thoughts so that they’re loving, too.

It sounds like an awful lot of work, doesn’t it?

Except, here’s an often overlooked reality: You’re already doing it.

You’re already doing the work of being loving, my friend. Every mom knows exactly what it’s like to sacrifice her own body; brain cells; schedule; short-, mid-, and longterm plans; and personal hygiene for the sake of her kids. The question is: are you doing the work, making the sacrifices, offering it up … with love? BOY-YOY-YOY-YOING!! That’s the sound of me being convicted by my own words. Every day, I have to ask myself: am I doing small things (and big things, too—have you seen my laundry pile?) with great love, as Saint Thérèse of Lisieux said, or am I complaining about the cooking (gah), the dishes (oy), the clutter (gak), the driving (oh, my word), the children’s sass (!!) and all of the 9,432,681 things that come with being a mom?

I’ll always remember when I realized what a noisy gong and a clanging cymbal I tend to be about certain tasks. It turns out that I can get all the laundry washed, folded, hung up, and put away, but if I’m not doing it with love, I’m missing the point. I can master meal-scheduling, crush grocery-shopping, successfully herd everyone out the door, get them where the need to be on time, and slay my to-do list … but if I don’t have love, what is the point? (See 1 Corinthians 13:1–3.)

Eventually, I asked myself: what would happen if I just did these small (and big) things with as much love as my overwhelmed, overworked, overtired, overstimulated mind, body, and soul could muster? Wouldn’t that make a much more pleasing sacrifice to God than if I grumbled the whole time? I thought of the widow in Mark’s Gospel (see 12:41–44), who only had two copper coins to give. That totaled—wait for it—a penny. And yet Jesus said her offering was worth more than what everyone else gave to the treasury, because she gave everything she had, not just a little bit from the extra she had left. Depending on the day and circumstances, I’m not sure I have even half a coin’s worth to give! But if I am only able to offer that half coin, if I can choose to give it with love, God is very pleased with my offering.

Let God love on you

Speaking of God being pleased, do you know how much God loves you? I know, I know. Maybe this sounds cheesy and makes you really uncomfortable, but please hear me out.

Think about the one person who loves you the very most out of every other human being on this entire planet. This person is your “ride or die”—the one who, no questions asked, will rush to fill up your tank whenever you need it. Through good times and bad, they love you. Maybe this person is your husband, or your sister, or your best friend, or your own mother. If you have someone like this in your life, thank God for them! I pray you get to do life with this person every single day and twice on Sunday, or at least on a regular basis.

Some of us don’t have the blessing of a “ride or die” person in our lives, and that’s okay. Don’t lose heart! Keep praying that Mama Mary and Elizabeth of the Visitation will send you this kind of friend; I will pray for that, too! I’m thinking, though, that if you’re reading this book, you have one or more children in your life, or you hope to someday.

So … think about that child or those children. Consider how much you love them. How you’d do anything for them. How you sacrifice so much, so that they can have the kind of life you want them to have. How you worry when something’s wrong. How you celebrate when things go right. How you pray. How you hope. And pray some more. Think about how very much you love the children in your life.

But here’s the thing: we could combine all the love your ride or die has for you with how much love you have for your kids, add that to the love shared between each and every other person on our planet, and it would still be a substantially weak approximation of the love your heavenly Father has for you. Just you. Not the entire human race—you.

Because God’s love for you is infinite. Lavish. Extravagant. Beyond human comprehension. Before he formed you in the womb he knew you (see Jer 1:5). And he knows you still. He wants you. He’ll never turn his back on you, not ever. Because he loves you.

And he’s not a loophole lover, this God. He isn’t waiting for you to make a wrong turn, or miss your exit, or run out of gas so he can stop being burdened by loving you. Nope. No way, no how. His love for you is infinite, and it is unconditional. You are his beloved child, his precious daughter. You cannot do anything to earn or to lose his love. It just is.

Now consider not just loving your child, but sacrificing that child to save others. That would take a super huge love; some might even call it supernatural. And yet this is the immense love God shows for us—that even while we were still sinners, he sent his Son, Jesus, to die for us so that we might live (see Rom 5:8).

It’s actually sort of mind-blowing to consider how much he loves us.

Knowing how much God loves me motivates me. It guides and directs me. It helps me to continue to pour myself out for my family day in and day out, when I feel I don’t have anything left to give. I look to the sacrificial love of Jesus Christ, and I see how my path to holiness—my vocation—echoes the ultimate sacrifice of Calvary. I also see my future. Not necessarily with literal death on a cross, but with the beautiful resurrection that awaits those whose lives most resembled Christ’s on this earth—the resurrection of the body and life everlasting. My life, your life, our children’s lives.

My friend, it is my greatest hope that you may acknowledge, accept, and be permeated with and re-created by God’s lavish and unfathomable love for you. I pray that it fills you up to overflowing, binding your wounds and fueling your days. I pray that, because you choose to allow God’s love to dwell within you, that you are, in turn, able to be his love to your family, your community, yourself.

I don’t have to tell you that sometimes love smells pretty bad. Sometimes it’s reallllly messy. And sometimes it’s just plain uncomfortable. But, as Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI said, we are not called to comfort. Mama, we are called to greatness. And if we choose to do small things with great love, we can navigate this crazy trip called motherhood, one overdue math assignment, one broken teen heart, one impromptu jump into the shower at a time.

Roadblocks to love

Here are a few common roadblocks we might experience on our journey to love.

Unworthiness: I think everyone believes, at one time or another for whatever reason, that they aren’t worthy of love. Well, we’re going to send that lie straight back to the pit of hell from whence it came! In Jeremiah 31:3, the Lord says, “I have loved you with an everlasting love.” You. Love. Everlasting. Sit with that truth. Soak it in. Believe it. He sent his Son to die for you. Before you were in your mother’s womb he knew you. You are lovable and you are loved. End of story.

Wounds: Maybe you’ve allowed yourself the exquisite joy of loving another person with everything you’ve got, only to be crushed when that love wasn’t reciprocated. Or it was betrayed. Or taken advantage of. Or discarded out of hand. I’m so very sorry you were hurt in that way! Here’s the good news: unconditional love is possible, because God loves us without condition and God is real. The Divine Physician wants to bind up your wounds and make you whole again, able to receive his abundant love until your heart overflows. Don’t allow fear to keep you from experiencing the greatest love of all—God’s love for you.

Selfishness (personal agenda/selfish desires): Sometimes we can get caught up in the “what’s in it for me” mentality regarding relationships. We don’t want to give love unless we know we’ll get something in return. But that’s not what God calls us to. He calls us to lay down our lives, to love as he loves, even those who hate us. The Holy Spirit can help us purify our desires and foster a more unconditional, self-giving love if we ask him to. So, let’s ask.

Yield to the power of the Holy Spirit

(prayer)

Eternal God, in whom mercy is endless and the treasury of compassion inexhaustible, look kindly upon us and increase your mercy in us, that in difficult moments we might not despair nor become despondent, but with great confidence submit ourselves to your holy will, which is love and mercy itself. (Closing prayer from the Chaplet of Divine Mercy)

Come, Holy Spirit—fill me with your love. Amen.

GPS: God Positioning System

(scripture)

“Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” — John 15:13

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” — John 3:16

“Let all that you do be done in love.” — 1 Corinthians 16:14

“Through love be servants of one another.” — Galatians 5:13

Roadside Assistance

(wisdom from the saints and others)

“God loves each of us as if there were only one of us.” — Saint Augustine of Hippo

“Sometimes my worst day—one filled with pain and suffering—in the eyes of God, is my best day if I’ve borne it cheerfully and I’ve borne it with love.” — Mother Angelica

“Let us remember that love lives through sacrifice and is nourished by giving. Without sacrifice, there is no love.” — Saint Maximilian Kolbe

“Love, to be real, it must cost—it must hurt—it must empty us of self.” — Saint Teresa of Calcutta

“Accustom yourself continually to make many acts of love, for they enkindle and melt the soul.” — Saint Teresa of Ávila

“When you know how much God is in love with you, then you can only live your life radiating that love.” — Saint Teresa of Calcutta

Pit Stop

(other resources)

• Look up 1 Corinthians 13, the well-known New Testament passage on love. Copy down or read aloud the passage, beginning with verse 1 and ending with “love never ends” in verse 8. Substitute the name of God everywhere the word “love” is referenced. Quietly meditate upon the true nature of God, who is love.

• Next, change things up, inserting your own name wherever the word “love” is referenced, beginning with verse 4 and ending with verse 6 (that is, “Heather is patient and kind; Heather is not jealous or boastful,” etc.). Meditate upon this modified version of the Scripture passage, especially as it relates to your vocation as a mother.

• Look up the song “You are Mine” by David Haas. Imagine God is speaking directly to you through the lyrics. If you’re a visual or audio person, there are videos with lyrics and music you can watch or listen to online.

• We all want to love and be loved. Perhaps you’ve read The 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapman. There’s also a children’s version, appropriately called The 5 Love Languages of Children. I’ve found these books, along with some free online resources, to be very helpful in understanding how I, my husband, and our children show and receive love. I encourage you to check them out!

Your Ideas

Discuss Amongst Yourselves

(questions)

1. What is unconditional love? How do you practice this particular love in your home?

2. What does it mean to be “fearfully and wonderfully made,” as Scripture tells us in Psalms 139:14?

3. Consider a time when your best-laid plans took a back seat to the needs of your child or children. What were the circumstances? What was the result of your sacrifice?

4. What are two things you can do this week to allow God’s love to be poured into you? Into your children?