There is a famous parenting phrase that we have all heard at one time or another; "it takes a village to raise a child." While that was true for my parents' generation, when parents and the community looked out for and sometimes disciplined children, in today's culture most parents are not thrilled when someone corrects their child. Even as a teacher, I had many "not my child" conversations with parents and received a phone call with a screaming mother on the other end wanting to know why I disciplined her son because he kicked another child in my class. (Her theory was that he has a right to stand up for himself though physical means.) Gone are the days when children were raised in a similar way - and there are positives and negatives to that, which is another blog post all on its own. But recently, I thought about the "it takes a village" phrase and wondered if maybe we could change the ending to "to help a mama."
This week, we received the last of our charitable meals from loving women who wanted to bless my family. For the past two months, women from my MOPs group have been bringing meals, twice a week, to my home. These meals were made with love and included the main dish, fruit/veggies and dessert. They also had enough food for us to stretch the love to two meals. Many of these women not only brought over these delicious meals to our house, they also stayed and chatted with my make-up free, yoga-pants self to see how I was doing and if I needed anything. Some of these women also brought sweet gifts for my Sadie Jane and also for her big brother Zachary. One friend brought over a cooler with six casseroles inside for us to freeze and pull out when we needed a meal. Each week, these women blessed our family in a simple, yet profound way. They not only fed our bellies, but our hearts as well.
After Zachary was born, we were still new to Cincinnati. I knew a few people from the school where I worked and a couple of our neighbors and of course Troy's coworkers, but that was it. We had just decided that Montgomery Community Church would be our home church, but we had only been attending for a month or two so we weren't connected to anyone there yet. After our family left and Troy went back to work, I felt very alone. I still had my friends in Minnesota that I called and we would make trips back to Chicago to visit family, but my only real support was Troy.
Parenting didn't meet the expectations that I had set. I had no idea how hard and how lonely it could be. I can remember thinking when Zachary was four months old, that I might be able to do this - which really meant for four months, while I was head over heals in love with my son, I was unhappy. I joined MOPs at my church the September after Zachary turned one. I had a lot of prompting from Troy due to the fact that my introverted self felt apprehensive about entering into a group where I knew not a soul. I promised myself that I was not going to pour myself out to these women just yet. They were going to have to earn my trust. I was just going to check things out and enjoy the childcare. Maybe go to the bathroom without a toddler pulling all the toilet paper off the roll. However, the Holy Spirit had another idea in mind. One that I wouldn't have chosen. One that made me vulnerable.
After mingling during brunch, introductions and a short video, we discussed a few questions about our dreams and before I knew it, the words that had been brewing in my gut came running up my throat and spilling out of my mouth. I knew this was not my doing. My plan was to keep them bottled up inside so that these women would think I actually knew what I was doing; that I had it together. I started sharing with my group about how I love my son, but I had a hard time finding real joy in my role as a mother and how guilty that made me feel. I told them that I was scared because now I was pregnant again and I didn't know how I was going to find joy with two children if I can't find it with one. I told them that I felt ashamed for even thinking this because I have two healthy children and some people can't even have one. Tears streamed down my face as I realized in horror that yes, I had just spoken all these things out loud to women I didn't even know. I wanted to run out of the room but my knees were shaking.
I took a breath, blinked back the tears that had not yet escaped and looked up at these women who would spend the next nine months uplifting me - and each other - and the looks on their faces showed nothing of judgement, but of empathy. One by one, they each offered me their words of wisdom and comfort. Some offered advice that worked for them, others agreed to having similar feelings. I realized that this group was much more powerful than I thought. This was my village.
That morning was a turning point in my role as a parent. We were not created to be alone. The Good Book says that right in the beginning, Genesis 2:18 says, "The Lord God said, "It is not good for man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him."" I was trying to parent without any suitable helpers. Of course, I had Troy who is an amazing husband, father and friend, but I think moms need other moms too.
Since September, my cup has overflowed. Obviously, I have days that are hard; where I am not a good parent or spouse, but I also have friends who come alongside of me and pick me up. I have found real joy in my role as a parent because I have found my village.
If you are struggling, I encourage you to find your village. If you live in the Cincinnati area, please come and check out Montgomery Community Church. If you are a mother of a child who is not yet in kindergarten, join a MOPs group. Find your people, because I am now convinced that it takes a village to help a mama.
