For the Mom Wearing Mismatched Shoes

When I was a baby, my dad was serving as interim pastor for a small Baptist church. My mom, the new “preacher’s wife,” was also the new Great Spiritual Woman (much to her dismay). One day, some ladies asked her, the shy 26-year-old girl from up North, to come lead a prayer meeting. She said yes.

When the day arrived, she put on her best dress–in those days, probably a denim jumper. She curled her bangs. She gathered her courage and walked out the door.

It wasn’t until she got to the prayer meeting location that she noticed that her shoes were different colors.

Is this you?

Are you the mom wearing mismatched shoes today? The mom who threw on a baseball cap or a hairnet because you haven’t had a shower in 2 days? The mom who has deep raccoon eyes that make you look ten years older than you actually are?

If you are the mom wearing mismatched shoes, smile.

You don’t look like the CEO who just stepped out of her BMW in high heels and a little black dress. Your postpartum tummy sags a little more, you don’t have time for the full face of makeup, and only half your hair got curled before you went to church because your kid started spreading poop on the bathroom wall. Even if your shoes match, your nail polish is chipped. But guess what?

Your job is even more important than that of a CEO.

If you’re like me, you have to be reminded of this often. Pre-kids working-you received affirmation and thanks for a job well done. Now your job may seem thankless, repetitive, boring. How many dirty diapers in one day’s quota? All of them. How many times do you have to say, “No, don’t touch the outlet!”? Every single time, day after day.

But that slobbery little face that burrows into your shoulder for a hug (and then surprises you by sinking sharp, brand-new teeth into you) might be the face of a president, a missionary, a janitor, a police officer, a MOM.

You’ve probably heard the phrase, “For the hand that rocks the cradle / Is the hand that rules the world.”

It was written by a 19th century poet named William Ross Wallace, and its truth has resounded in each generation following the day he wrote it. But have you ever read the rest of the poem?

Here are my two favorite stanzas:

Infancy’s the tender fountain,
Power may with beauty flow,
Mothers first to guide the streamlets,
From them souls unresting grow—
Grow on for the good or evil,
Sunshine streamed or evil hurled,
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Woman, how divine your mission,
Here upon our natal sod;
Keep—oh, keep the young heart open
Always to the breath of God!
All true trophies of the ages
Are from mother-love impearled,
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

(To read the rest of the poem, click here.)

Our words are not in vain. Our love and service has a purpose.

Keep the young heart open/Always to the breath of God, said the poet. Let’s remind ourselves to see the joy on a little one’s face as more precious than the approval of the working world. Let us stop comparing ourselves to the trim figures, the stylish outfits, and the perfect hair of someone who has time to put all that together. Let’s be glad for them that they get to enjoy this season of looking great, and let’s be even more glad for ourselves that every morning we get up and guide the little hearts and personalities that have been entrusted to us.

The mom wearing mismatched shoes has more to think about than shoes.

Her eyes are on the baby, not her clothes. She is cooking (although some of the food may be burnt). She is cleaning (although she may not have caught the poop in the bathroom before her mother-in-law found it). Day after day, she is reading stories and cuddling and crying and hoping.

The mom wearing mismatched shoes is God’s servant.

Take heart, sisters. Your shoes don’t matter. Their lives do.

“Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.” I Corinthians 15:58, NIV

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