It's Good to be Last

I’ve finally figured it out. The kids have installed a secret alarm on my body that can sense when I wake up in the morning and alarms so they can wake up as well. At first I thought it was just an alarm on my bed, that it seemed the second my feet hit the ground they would cry for me to come rescue them from their cribs, but then, one morning I decided in an effort to trick the alarm, that I would say my morning prayers while laying still in my bed.  I don’t think I got past two “Hail Mary’s” before the first cry sounded. “How are they doing this?!” I thought. It doesn’t matter if I wake up at 4 am, 5:30 or 7. They wake up when I wake up. Ok, I don’t get to 7 ever, but it’s a nice thought. And I know it’s not possible for babies to have the technology to carry out this theory even though all the signs point that direction.

The point is, this morning, like every other morning, I woke up early hoping desperately to have some alone time with God. I was reminded this week after a really tough day and then a rosary and a really awesome day just how important and powerful prayer is in my life and especially in my job as a mom and wife. So, determined to outsmart the kids and make sure I get my prayer time, I tiptoed as quietly as ever to the bathroom, but when I opened the door to the bedroom again I saw my husband gone from the bed and heard the cries coming from upstairs. I waited, sometimes Samuel will go back to sleep before 6 am. Dan came back down thinking Samuel was going back to sleep, but sure enough the domino effect couldn’t be undone and one by one each one was awake and even though they all needed another hour of sleep there was no way any of them were going to try that. I sat there on the couch holding a sleepy, crabby baby who wouldn’t let me put him down because he was too tired while baby number two cried at me from dad’s arms because in her sleepy state she just wanted me too. It’s always a frustrating feeling when you have a plan for the day or even the next half hour and it’s completely unraveled. But as I sat there snuggling I was gently reminded of the conversation we had in church this past Sunday.

“If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be the last of all and the servant of all.” Mk 9:36

Exactly the reminder I need as a mom. It’s easy for moms to put ourselves last, to be the servant. It’s natural, it’s pretty much expected by our kids. It’s really not something we have to work at. What I need work on is not being bitter about it. I need to work on EMBRACING it. It probably doesn’t mean a lot if I’m last of all or servant of all by default. It should be my choice, and HAPPILY my choice. I should consciously try each day to be their servant. Wouldn’t that be so much more joyful than feeling stuck as their servant? Because didn’t we choose that to begin with? Didn’t we stand up on the altar and promise each other we’d lay down our lives for the other? Didn’t I give my whole self for this man and for the family that God would create with that gift?

If you have ever met anyone who is overall a very selfless person, you know the joy that radiates from that CHOICE to serve others. You also know if you’ve ever met anyone who serves unwillingly the bitterness that consumes them.  Yes, I chose joy, I choose to serve.

The best part, is that I’m pretty sure Jesus said these words two thousand years ago just for us Mom’s, because the very next verse says “Taking a child, he placed it in their midst, and putting his arms around it, he said to them, ‘Whoever receives one child such as this in my name, receives me; and whoever receives me, receives not me but the One who sent me.’” Mk 9:37

This Sunday at church I found myself yearning for the spiritual experience that Mass used to be for me. Lately, trying to keep our 4 children from crying, falling, or running up on to the alter (we’ve had some close calls) it’s a good day if I just am able to catch a few verses of scripture or sing a line I know from a song (because there are no extra hands to hold a book and if I did I’m positive a toddler would end up throwing it at the head of someone in front of us).  But as I sat there after communion and offered up a quick apology to God for my distracted heart and saddened by the distance I felt, He quickly reminded me that He was sitting right there in my lap. “Whoever received one child such as this in my name receives me.”

So, this morning because I have a short memory I sat there on my couch sad about missing my morning conversation with God when He gently reminded me again that He was sitting right in my lap with me.

Being last is hard sometimes, it means we forget what it's like to have adult conversations, we run on less sleep and rarely drink a warm cup of coffee. We give up the things we like to do to the point that we hardly recognize ourselves anymore. Ask a mom what her favorite food is and see how long it takes her to answer. Chances are, like my mother whose birthday is coming up, it will take her 10 minutes to think about it and figure it out because she's so used to making food everyone else likes. We don't get showers on days when we REALLY need showers and we must choose between a very limited social life, a hobby or a clean house, it's only possible to have one if you have time for any. But as I sat there snuggling my "mini-Jesus" this morning who after all that crankiness peaked up and gave me the sweetest smile, my heart just loved being last.

Be a servant, CHOOSE to be a JOYFUL servant. Moms: seriously, how blessed are we to get to be last? And because I was last this morning, I got to be first to see my son take his very first steps today. Keep me honest friends, keep reminding me if I start complaining just how great it is to be last. J