I was in the delivery room when my wife entered into motherhood. There were no quirky Hallmark one-liners filled with sentimental gibberish. Instead I witnessed intense stares, swollen cheeks, and a request for an epidural shot to numb the body from pain. The appeal to breath properly came across like a gorilla giving yoga lessons. I tried to comfort with words like, “It’s going to be okay. You are doing great. I am proud of you. I’m getting hungry.” In hindsight, the words should have simply been written in a card and given to her after she brought our children in the world. We did hold hands – rather passionately, I might add.
My wife is a remarkable woman. She holds down three fulltime jobs – an administrator, mother, and wife. She manages accounts, keeps our children clean, and teaches me table manners. I am truly blessed with a remarkable lady. Without her I am lost, a drifter without a home port. The mother of my children knows when her family is off-center. Her love is the gravitational pull that keeps us at home. When I have lost my way – which happens more times than I would like to admit – she shows me how to live again.
As I reflect on mother’s day and the wife who has chosen that role in our family, I am humbled. Our children are blessed to be able to call her mom. I know that I am here to learn from her. I am here to offer whatever kind of security I can give but also know that it is her that protects my heart.
“Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband too, and he praises her” Proverbs 31: 28.