My sweet friend, Hannah, has agreed to share a recent post of hers with us today!
Hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
I've decided
to stop referring to myself as any form of “Mother” in the third person.
I have a bad habit of doing this on most social media platforms. I’ll
say, “mommy needs a nap…” Or “mommy break time!”… as if it’s some
self-awarded, term of endearment.
What
I’ve realized is that, for myself and my particular genetic makeup,
this is no affectionate, endearing team. You see, I’ve lost myself while
in the third person. It’s inevitable that I’ll call myself “mommy” or
“momma” while speaking to my children… (Mommy said NO, Samuel. Etc) but I
certainly do not have to call myself “mother” TO myself or the world at
large.
Yes,
I am a mother. Just as I am a wife and a friend and a daughter. But
this is not all that I am. I am me. My name is Hannah. There are many,
MANY attributes that make me who God created 26 years ago.
The
other afternoon, after sorting through unpacked boxes from our recent
move from central Georgia to the Savannah coast, I found my old piano
books. One book in particular I remember playing from every Christmas
since about the age of 16. I flipped to my favorite piece inside and
scooted the bench closer to the pedals. In the next few minutes, I
played the song from beginning to end. I shocked and amazed myself—and
somewhere deep inside, I proved SOMETHING to my inner being that simply
had been waiting impatient and expectant for quite some time.
Now,
as I played this piece, keep in mind and picture, if you will, that I
had a 23 month old banging on the keys beside me the whole time. But it
didn’t deter me from completing the piece with all the emotions
required, all the notes needing playing and all the dynamics being
monitored.
When I was to the end, I started crying.
It’s
easy to lose yourself in motherhood. It’s easy to go through the
motions of breast feeding, changing diapers, doing laundry, fighting
picky toddlers, soothing crocodile tears, calming colicky babies, and
then getting 3 or 4 hours of sleep in one night. It’s easy to get in a
rut. In a scheduled routine of wake up, play house, go to bed.
But
I’ve decided to stop the mundane madness. I am still me. I posted a
picture on Instagram earlier with a comment of “Nap times mean a reading
and coffee break for mommy”… I immediately felt this twinge of regret
and heartache inside and deleted the comment. I changed it instead to:
nap times mean a reading and coffee break for Hannah!
Because
the facts remain that although, yes, I am a mother to two wonderful
boys, I am also the same young girl who loved to write and dreamed of
impacting the world with her strength and passion found in Christ.
Although I am a mother and wife, I am still the same young lady who
wrote songs and lyrics, longing to make that human connection with
crowds of people—even if in a lowly coffee house on a college campus.
I
still have tremendous dreams. I still contain passions yet to be tapped
into. My mask may seem dull… Changing diapers, bathing bottoms, and
serving meals… But behind my disguise is Hannah. I’m still here.
If you want to read more of Hannah's post, check out her blog: lovingsrightlaughingsgood.
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