to you, the brave mother

We love stories of bravery – they are the stories we gather our children together to share, they are the ones that we pass on to our friends, and they’re the ones we reference when we’re in those moments of life where we feel like we’re in the pit of helplessness. Bravery is contagious. It inspires, motivates, encourages, and provides hope in a world that at times feels like too much to bare.

Often the bravery comes from those we least expect it to come from.

Sometimes bravery develops in the simplest of ways, the humblest of times – in moments of giving of self and in believing in a future that really doesn’t match with the present. And at other times, bravery is this jolt of adrenaline – the lift the car off the person, cover up the kids with your own body and keep them from the tornado – kind of bravery. And sometimes, sometimes, bravery isn’t seen. It’s those times when the resolve has almost trickled away, when the knock at the door means money needs to be paid, when the kids are sick and the hope is dim, and when the fatigue of life wears away at resolve.

Those pull up your bootstraps days are brave.

There are those of you right now, on this very moment, who need to hear how brave you are today.

You need to hear that those times where you looked at a child that tested every single button or is rebelling or is defiant and you looked at them and fought for them. Loved them, even though your heart was worn. That is brave. There are of you standing at the kitchen sink, staring out the window, listening to the noise in the home, and wondering how you are going to get to five pm because you are so worn. And yet, day after day after day after day, you do. That is brave. There are you with kids struggling, relationships in a wreck, with piles of bills to be paid, with kids that are sick, with kids that rebelling, with kids that are just being kids, with vehicle problems, with washing machines that are broke, with a colicky newborn, with a mothering heart that is just worn. And yet, yet, right now, you keep fighting. Keep pushing through.

That is brave.

What if you and I and the next mother on the corner became a culture of woman who embraced the bravery found in each other? What if the competition was less about needing to be better than the next and instead a joint collaboration in being the best we can be? What if instead of racing by all those we see that we slow down and look someone in the eye and say hello?

I know you right now know of someone in your life that is being incredibly brave.

Maybe it’s you.

It’s your sister. A friend. The mom at church with the toddler that shrieks every time she leaves him for class and yet you see her come again and again and again. Maybe it’s the gal at work with you who you see brush tears away throughout the day. Maybe it’s your neighbor. Maybe it’s your dear friend moving across the country leaving all she knows behind. Maybe it’s the cashier at the grocery store. Maybe it’s the mother at preschool with the newborn and toddler.

Maybe. But, they are in your life.

Do you tell them how thankful you are for them? How amazing a job they are doing? That you see?

Imagine the strength that we as women could develop if we broke down those walls of comparison, fears of failing and not measuring up, and worry about what others would think, and if we could become the woman that pulls another one up, links arms, and celebrates the bravery that we as mothers demonstrate every single day.

Today. Who can you bless? What can you do today? Where are you being brave?

We are not a generation of women who are content to sit in wishing things would be different – we are strong. Bold. Brave. Loving our families even when we are worn. We rise up in the morning and go to bed exhausted. We fight, give, pray, hope, and weep. We keep going.

All of that is amazing. You are amazing.

Spread that message. Celebrate the bravery of mothers.

A brave mother.

It’s not about being perfect, having every duck in a row, and not falling down – it’s about the resolve and tenacity in every step taken. In faces wiped, hugs given, fights broken up at nine am over matchbox cars, sandwiches cut, buckles snapped into place, dropping kids off at class, cleaning the kitchen, waiting up till midnight, standing in a kitchen counting to ten kind of brave. That matters.

Onward brave mother.

~Rachel
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