A Story of Grace on Mother’s Day

This is a simple story of grace spoken to a mom’s heart through the unassuming words of a local flower farmer.

“You look like you really love being a mom,” said the white-haired man with a kind smile and sparkling eyes. I was paying for a bushel of white flowering branches and three bundles of the most cheerful white and orange daffodils I’ve set eyes on in a long while. He handed me the carefully packaged bundles and helped as I struggled to get the armful of branches and flowers into my tote, all the while trying to keep my busybody toddler safe within arm’s reach.

That sunny and warm Saturday morning at the Warrenton Farmer’s Market, I spent a little too much time under that tent, first admiring the beautiful art he painted of the flowers he grows at his nearby farm and sells at the local market. I lingered a little too long, wrought with indecision on what variety of daffodils I loved most (so hard to choose). Meanwhile, my toddler zipped from flower bucket to flower bucket, threatening to knock one perfect bucket over at any second.

The flower farmer’s wife, without pause, got to my little man’s level and asked if he would like a flower. With happy eyes, my son agreed and she led him to a table where she picked up a yellow tulip and handed it to him. Her kindness made me smile. For a few minutes, he was preoccupied and I was in flower bliss.

But just 15 minutes prior, I was bent down at his level too, just like the flower farmer’s wife, except that moment was very different.  My cheeks felt hot red from embarrassment that my sweet boy just hit me and screamed a defiant, “No!” after I offered him a bite of piping hot chicken pot pie to sample. I calmly reprimanded him, while feeling eyes on me as I took care of the situation as best as I could and returned to the baker’s stand, apologetically. This is why I don’t do this, I said to myself feeling that familiar struggle of motherhood again, slightly regretting my decision to venture out with a toddler. Put me in a board room to lead a multi-million dollar proposal under tight deadlines, no problem. Mothering in public, however, felt like being fed to the wolves.

I asked the flower farmers if they remembered me. “Maybe 5 years ago, before this little guy was around, I purchased dogwood branches from your farm for a wedding space I designed,” I recalled. “It’s so good to see you all here.”

This was something I always loved to do, making spaces beautiful with warm touches and thoughtful details — and always with flowers.  I would spend hours planning these spaces in my mind and then on paper, envisioning the people that would use them and how I could set the tone. Seeing their faces again reminded me of the person I was, still am,  prior to motherhood – and how I stopped doing those things that made me come alive. It also made me appreciate where I have come in the past few months as I was “out there” that day, doing the thing I loved even though I feared a public meltdown and an uncomfortable situation. I passed that tent overflowing with flowers two times before walking in. My heart leaped at the thought of carefully picking my favorites and taking them to adorn my home, but I also questioned whether I could even truly enjoy myself with a little one by my side. For me, walking in was a step in faith that I could do it and still find joy.

The moment of seeing them again felt like God winking at me, assuring me that He created me and designed me with perfect intention and that I could still be me, and with His grace, be the mom he called me to be.

Since January, God has been patiently teaching me about his ways and his grace as I have learned to accept the gift of motherhood. As my perfect Heavenly Father, He is consistently reminding me of this truth:

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” – 2 Corinthians 12:9

Mercy, I have learned, is to be freely forgiven for all my shortcomings and failures as mom – for the inevitable screw ups, big and small. But grace – grace is the undeserved blessing after you have failed, grace is this never-ending supply of strength and hope and life to do what you are called to do, even when you mess up repeatedly, yet continue to come back to Him. Yes, His grace is sufficient for me, for His power is made perfect in all my weaknesses as a mother.

I may have spent a mere 10 minutes under that tent, but reflect on that memory often, feeling a pure and simple joy and a very tangible expression of God’s love, presence and His gift of grace in my motherhood. For giving me joy, for reminding me that he cares about the little things I love too, for the quiet assurance that He knew exactly where I was that day as a mom – even knew my trivial desire for beauty and flowers.  It all mattered to Him. My heart spills over with thanksgiving and praise for not just a God that is almighty and powerful, but for a God who knows my heart and who I can call, Father. 

What unassuming, yet powerful words that landed on my heart that day through the simple words of a local flower farmer. “You look like you really love being a mom,” he said. “Thank you,” I said truly meaning it, “I really appreciate those words.”

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Happy Mother’s Day to you beautiful, selfless moms. You were created in His image. You were created with his perfect design in mind, wired so uniquely to be the person you are, loving the things you love, with the cool quirks you have. You were chosen to be your child’s mama; quite frankly, it’s your calling.  And whatever God calls you to do, he is faithful to equip you and provide you with the grace you need to complete your calling according to His will. May you believe and receive, with open hands and hearts.