Being a mom often means being up in the middle of the night. If God ordained every minute you spend awake in the nighttime, are these moments gifts of grace?
I look down at my shoes, worn black Vans, and rub the dried formula off the toe. I hastily tuck my hair behind my ears and catch my baby girl smiling at me from the corner of my eye. I move to the stove to look down at the oatmeal I'm making for breakfast, stirring in raisins and obscene amounts of peanut butter to try to hold off the request for a snack for at least a couple hours.
There's this thing I've noticed when you become a mom, it happens abruptly beginning with the first night of the first babe, yet I'd be willing to bet that most moms don't even notice it happening. It's subtle, a common thread among all of motherhood - but one that would rather not be noticed, not be plucked out and put on display.