I am Supermom

You are incredible!
Kudos to you!
Wow 8 kids? You deserve a medal!
You must have so much patience!
I could never do it. Good for you!

These are all comments I hear from total strangers everywhere I go. But the one I hear most is:

"Wow, you are a super mom!"

Why is it at first glance I appear to be a super mom. Is it the smile I share with others when I meet them? Is it the fact that my children are polite in public? Is it just such an oddity that one would have so many kids that they automatically must have super powers?

To be honest, the last thing a mother of 8 feels like is a super hero. Unless its referring to a scene such as when Samson is in his weakest moment, consumed by humility and failure that in his last breath he calls out to God and destroys the wicked people with his last ounce of strength, pulling the palace balcony down upon himself. Or perhaps a hero people are more familiar with when Superman flies into the centre of the sun, absorbing all its energy in exchange for his own, in order to stop it from exploding and destroying the galaxy, saving those who are for, and against him and finally...dying for them.

That is the kind of super hero this mother of 8 feels like. Weak. Lost. Alone. Shamed. But there is hope within this winding path of motherhood. Like Samson, I feel like I'm seeking that 'one last ounce of strength' constantly from the Lord. I basically live on that one last ounce of strength. And then the next 'one last ounce of strength' and then the next and then the next and the next. This mother's tank is never full. I stop at the gas station every day. And maybe that's the way it's supposed to be during this time of chaos and uncertainty.

As I'm writing this, the most important story of all comes to mind. When my Lord was put on the cross by his own children. His past, present, and future children. With our sins. We betrayed him. Sent him off alone to die for something he never did. What is the image of christ you see when you think about his last moments alive on earth? Weak. He was beaten, whipped, crushed, pierced. Lost. He came to a world where his own people didnt accept him. Cried out to God "why have you forsaken me?". Alone. He hung there alone. Carrying the burden by himself. Shamed. Mocked, spit at, cursed. No other could have done what he did. What a man for a mother to walk in the footsteps of. Our own Lord and God did it first. Felt the same feeling we do as mothers. Of course in a much grander way. He is the father of billions. And in 1 moment in time, carried all of our hurts, struggles, curses, and tempertsntrums the way a mother ought to. Never putting herself above them.

I can do all things through him who gives me strength. Even if right now it's just a top up day by day. I dont think He will let me run dry. A deer may run all day through the woods in hopes of finding a stream. Exhasted, he finally arrives and the stream he had been longing for all day. Quenched with thirst, the deer drinks. As the deer thirsts, so I thirst for the water God gives me. I make it to his stream every day and then run the race again. And again. And again.

He is my super power. I have none by myself.

When people ask me "how do you do it?" My answer is always the same. "Its only because of Jesus."