As these days of parenting little tiny children just seem to get longer and harder, this image comes to mind. Remember at the end of the first Matrix when Neo is beaten to a bloody pulp and just when it seems the movie will end in a tragedy, he gets up, takes a deep breath in and a deep breath out and the scenery around him moves in and out with his breath.
Then he does crazy stuff like stop bullets and rips apart the sentient programs at the seams? This is me. I am beaten to a bloody pulp. I am 39 and my body hurts from heavy lifting and running after little boys. My mind hurts from the mental and emotional gymnastics required. Little sleep, no privacy… I am full of bullet holes called tantrums, illness, other people, lack of “me” time…. and I am bleeding to death.
Then… THEN… I hear it. I hear HIM. I hear the whisper after the noise of the crazy has died down and the boys have fallen asleep. “I see you. I love you. I love how you love your family. I know you didn’t get any praise for changing diapers or throwing that dinner together or waiting out the tantrum like the storm that it is. I see you beaten and broken. Now get up. You are healed. Your significance is in ME and me alone. And that is all that matters.”
Inhale truth, exhale grace. The scenery moves in and out. The bullets come at me in slow motion. Inhale truth, exhale grace. I’ve been shown extraordinary grace. I grab a bullet. I look at it. The rest of the bullets are no longer effective. They drop to the ground. I am Neo mom. My fuel is grace and truth. I screw up time and again. I apologize to my kids. *Bullet drops* My kids fight with each other. I show them what peacemaking looks like *Bullet drops* Even on my okay-est days of mommy-ing and wife-ing, I’m covered by grace.
Run you sentient programs, because Neo mom is on the loose and I am raising another generation of world changers. The Matrix is real and spreading like fire. Inhale truth, exhale grace.
An American humorist, writer and author. When boiling down the chicken soup of life, she finds those golden, fried nuggets of truth & writes them long after the kids go to bed.
