The Day I {Really} Became A Mother

"He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it." 1 Thessalonians 5:24

Three months (three is my favorite number, so you know this is going somewhere good) prior to beginning a relationship with my husband, I answered an altar call where I was given a prophetic prayer that, well, confused me. The pastor spoke "wife" and "mother" over me, saying that God was going to use me in those roles to fulfill His kingdom work. For those who didn't know me then, you should know that not only was I not in a relationship with anyone at that point to help me become a "wife" or "mother," I had never dated anyone. Ever. I remember leaving the service joking with my sister, "Well, I guess I'm getting married soon!"

Fast forward three months, and I began dating the man that I now call my husband. The journey to becoming Matt's wife is one filled with God's handprint marked all over it (including hearing from God that I would marry a man named "Matthew" when I was 10 years old!), but that is a story I will save for another time.

On our very first date, we opened up to each other about everything. All the little messy, fun and hidden details of our lives (looking back - who does that on the first date?!). When he asked me the question, "What do you want to do after college?" I rambled on about pursuing a career in public relations or education, due to my degrees. After doing so, I felt a little tug in my heart to open up to him even more, and told him what I really want to be was a wife and mom - one who is dedicated to making little disciples for Christ and leading her home in that which builds His kingdom. This desire in my heart to be a wife and mother stemmed from even my childhood longings to serve God in that manner, and the previous prophecy spoken over me was no where near the forefront of my mind. I knew sharing this with him would either scare him away with the idea that he would be the sole provider for a family, or, he would react how he did: promise that he would make that happen.

Fast forward one year, and he made me a wife.

Fast forward two years, and I began to doubt again. While I mocked God the day that I received that prophecy, I witnessed His word coming true through the creation of our marriage. I immediately knew that God was going to not only answer His promise of making me a wife and mother, but that He would do it fully. I began to doubt when we felt called to start a family...and it didn't happen. It didn't happen for three months, then three months turned into six months, then six months turned into nine months. Nine months that I longed to carry a baby turned into nine months of infertility. I was struggling deep in my soul to trust that God was going to do more than fulfill only 50% of the desires of my heart, of His heart. I should have known better.

Fast forward three years, and he made me a mother.

Three years from that very first moment that I shared with my husband that I wanted to be a mother, God fulfilled it in its entirety with our firstborn son. (Read 'A Birth Story: Paul Harrison Roberts' Part I and Part II)

Fast forward to last month, when I left not only my job, but my corporate career, to become a full time and stay at home wife and mama.

My eight to five days donning fresh Starbucks, stilettos, working with the local media and managing communications for an organization now look like 'round the clock mornings, afternoons and nights warming the same cup of coffee five times, spit up covered pajamas, reruns of my favorite shows and the best, warmest and most important snuggles and kisses with my sweet son.

Standing on my current mountaintop, I am able to see the words spoken years ago come to life. I am so thankful for the calling that Christ has placed on our family and that He has made the way for our new, little family to walk into that calling. From a new job for my husband to miracle situations, we are living out the dreams that we shared with each other four years ago in that small diner over lunch. I can't wait to see where this beautiful path leads and what will be fulfilled through us to further advance His glorious kingdom.

Moral of the story: don't ignore the little voice inside of you calling you to something greater, something that scares you. Trust Him to bring you through it and to it.

July Goals

This month marks a lot of big events for our little family. One major milestone has already happened as of this week: I am officially a stay at home mom (will be writing more about this soon)! This is a big leap of faith into a long-time calling on my life and I am so excited to fully step into this role as the full time homemaker and caregiver of our home.

In addition to soaking in all of the blessings that come from being a wife and mama, we are going to enjoy a lot of extra family time this month with holidays, seasonal events and family traditions filling us to the brim. This all is jump-started by just returning from a refreshing time in Georgia with my mom and sisters this past weekend. Our little family is loving this big summer of fun and family that we are having!

July Goals

Celebrate the Fourth of July with our family and friends.

Compile a bucket list for the last few weeks of summer.

Spend a week helping put on Vacation Bible School at our church.

Spend a week with Matt's family in Georgia at Indian Springs Holiness Campground (our absolute favorite summer family tradition!).

Establish a postpartum fitness plan and actually do it.
Organize my kitchen pantry.

Holy Week & Motherhood

I've thought about sharing my thoughts and heart about this topic for some time now. About nine months to be exact. Fear of what others will think, what I will say or how I will be perceived have kept me quiet. Until now. Until Holy Week.

"And when he had given thanks, he brake it, and said, 'Take, eat: this is my body, which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of me.'" 1 Corinthians 11:24

Palm Sunday, Passover, Good Friday, Easter - these days often bring to mind sermon titles, certain hymns, special services or new outfits to wear. This year, it means something different in my soul.

Do you see where Jesus says, "which is broken for you?" As a child, young adult, wife and woman, I always understood that He meant that His body, His fleshly, earthly body was broken, destroyed and demolished for us. That as part of this, we remember it in the act of communion. But, what if we could remember it in the physical, beyond a slice of bread, beyond a sip of a drink.

As a mother-to-be, this resonates so deeply within me. I'm going to put it out there - I never wanted to be pregnant. Of course, I wanted children. I wanted a baby in my arms. I wanted to raise up little disciples for Christ. I wanted to see my husband's face in that of his son. God put those desires in the depths of me for as long as I can remember, and I knew he would make it happen. But pregnancy? The breaking of my body? I didn't want that. I saw it as a means to an end. A journey to endure. A time frame that needed to be counted down. So, here I am, in my ninth month of pregnancy, with the biggest revelation I've had on this entire journey: I am willing to accept the broken body of Christ, without willingly giving up my body to be broken for His will and His new creations.

You might be confused by that statement. Perhaps thinking, "Margaret, you are doing it! You're pregnant right now!" Let me tell you, unless my heart is wholly surrendered to Him and His will, throwing away my selfish and fleshly desires, it is all in vain. My biggest fear in life is to live outside of God's will - and here I am - in the middle of walking out what He has called me to do, to be a mother, and I am kicking and screaming like a little girl who can't have that extra cookie (because we know I love me some cookies right now). To have never suffered from body image issues to having the worst body image complex I could have imagined in a span of three months (when the lovely physical "breaking of my body" we can call it) appeared on my flesh. Flesh! Do I even hear myself? Flesh - the thing that is not eternal. The thing that Jesus himself broke on a cross, covered in blood and thorns and sword wounds and lashes and beatings.

I was pregnant during Christmas, enjoying the wondrous ideas of what Mary was thinking when she was pregnant. Wondering what she went through, how she felt and what a miraculous experience it must have been (because, of course, the mother of Jesus had a perfect pregnancy and delivering in a stable doesn't sound that bad in the stories). Sometimes we start there. With the birth of Jesus. Let's start with Easter. The death of Jesus. His body was completely broken and shattered for us. His mother's body was broken to bring Him into this world so that He could be broken for us. This wasn't an accident. This was God showing us how much he cares for us. How far He will go to make sure that we understand the unending, undying and forgiving love that He wants us to soak and relish in.

So, where does that leave me and my fleshly self? In awe. In tears. In admiration. My Jesus died to give me life. To give my son, who's kicking away inside of my body, life. So, my "broken body?" I would do this everyday, all day, forever, if it means that I get a daily reminder when I look in the mirror at my fleshly scars covering my body and extra skin in new places that there are hollow scars in the hands of a Savior who died to let me become a mother, for His glory.

While I am excited about the arrival of this new creation God is making within my body, something better has happened. A broken body is alive. And we are all new creations.

"A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” Then he said to Thomas, 'Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.'” John 20:26