I used to be brave enough to take my kids along for grocery trips, but since having our third it doesn’t happen much anymore. My husband and I loaded the kids up and went to WalMart. They were worn out from the holiday and so were we but it was a trip we needed to take and for the most part everything was going smoothly. We were on our way to check out, anxious to leave, and we forgot cereal. My husband walked to the back of the store to pick it up while the kids and I continued on. There we were, men’s clothing on one side and what seemed to be one-thousand-tempting-displays-of-sweets on the other. I felt like a walking circus, as though the store hired me to be their customers’ source of entertainment for the evening. It was ten minutes of out-numbering that seemed like an eternity. Our youngest was protesting about being confined to the cart, he wanted Daddy back and he wasn’t going to wait. Now we were wrestling. Our oldest was admiring the sweets, laughing as he said “what about this one mom?” He knew I was stressed and was trying to relieve me but it was having the opposite effect. Then there was our little girl, she was dancing in her own world, carefree of who was watching, what was surrounding her or of anything else. She twirled down the aisle as I directed her each time a cart needed to pass. Her dancing was sweet but I couldn’t play the role of traffic director for much longer. Ahead of us were two elderly women looking at pajamas right in the middle of the aisle. They were unsteady on their feet and I surely didn’t want to risk squeezing pass them in what little room we had. At the sound of my “traveling circus” they both looked up and watched us draw closer. I rounded the kids close to the cart, which was more like corralling chickens and we stepped off to the side. The ladies watched and to my surprise, smiles spread across their faces.
They walked on by, and as pleased as could be one turned to
me and said “How are you doing Mom?!” My
heart was instantly relieved at their free giving of understanding, of
kindness, of patience in two simple smiles and a few kind words. I wanted to remember their glistening eyes,
wide smiles and the one woman’s gentle voice.
I wanted to remember the grace that she passed to me in one quick
exchange. Because one day, when my kids
aren’t so small, I will pass a mama with her hands and heart full. I don’t want to treat her and her children as
an inconvenience to me and my schedule, as so many do. Because you see, us mamas of little ones do
have our hands full and we are often outnumbered.
You may wonder why she brought the
kids along or why she doesn’t have help.
I have a loving and more-than-helpful husband but that other mama you
may pass may be going it alone. Maybe
her and her husband work different shifts to help with the cost of
childcare. Maybe she doesn’t have a
reliable support system. She may be
silently wishing she could have come shopping alone because it would be so much
easier and faster that way. I’ve done it
before.
You may wonder why the kids aren’t
in bed, but maybe this is the only opportunity she has to shop. Maybe, just maybe, she chose to go late to
avoid the glares of inconvenienced shoppers.
I’ve done it before.
You think she could have at least
got out of her pajamas but maybe she hasn’t had time to do laundry. Maybe she chose to spend time helping with
homework or singing a lullaby instead of bent over a washer. Maybe she wore all her decent clothes earlier
that week and spends little on herself in order to care for her kids. Maybe she has had a week of sleepless nights
and literally forgot to get dressed before leaving the house. I’ve done it before.
You judge her parenting because her
kids are whining and loud but maybe it’s been a hard day for all of them. Maybe they are well-behaved children who are
simply having a bad day. Maybe mama did
appear a little more like a raging bull instead of the tender-hearted parent
she is, maybe she’s stressed and exhausted.
I’ve done it before.
I’ve been “that” mama so many times, because it’s part of being a mama. My kids have been “those kids” so many times, because it’s part of being a kid. Whether it’s a mama or a dad – us parents are far from perfect. And I don’t ever want to forget it. Whether it’s a boy or a girl, an only child or a “quiver full” – those kiddos are far from perfect. And I don’t ever want to forget it.
Maybe that parent and those kids are everything you assume
they may be – maybe they don’t mind that they haven’t showered in a week and
wear their pajamas out of the house.
Maybe they do spend their money on habits when it would be more wisely
spent on childcare. Maybe they wouldn’t
come close to receiving a “parent-of-the-year” award and possibly not even come
close to the running. Maybe their kids
haven’t been taught respect and manners. But even then, does this give us reason to
judge them, dismiss them, to insist they should have never had children? But we do. And these are the parents who need us to rise
above the most.
Parents of little ones don’t need our judgmental attitudes, our gossiping tongue, or our inconvenienced glares. They need gentleness, reassurance, a little bit (no, a lot) of encouragement and more than anything, a tangible Jesus. They need us to be like Him, to reach them in their worst and through the ugly, mess of it all to lend a hand and help a heart.
The next time you see that pajama-mama, give her a smile, lend her a hand, hold a door, return her cart, let her know she’s doing a good job, please find a way to extend grace. Your choice of grace just may change her day, change her heart, change that families world.
"Generous hands are blessed hands." Proverbs 22:9
"Therefore, encourage one another and build each other up." 1 Thessalonians 5:11
