It was about 9:30 in the evening. My thirteen-year-old daughter, Eva, finally was finishing her bedtime preparations, which included feeding her new hamster, BeeBee. I was settling into my own nightly rituals and enjoying the relative peace of the day's end when I heard a shriek from down the hallway.
"Mo-ommm, come heerrrre! Now!!"
I dropped my toothbrush and ran to Eva's bedroom, where she stood above her hamster's cage, eyes wide and mouth open. "I think BeeBee's having babies!" she announced.
Sure enough, seven-week-old BeeBee, an occupant in our home for only the past two weeks, was a mother. Eleven (Did you get that? Eleven!) half-inch long, worm-like babies were mouthing the air about her, searching for food.
In the days that followed, I saw in BeeBee a commitment to the responsibilities of motherhood. She ate, that she might feed her babies. She slept, that she might warm her babies. She shoved pine-straw into womb-like piles, that she might protect her babies.
One morning we peeled back the towel covering the cage, only to find it empty. Gasping, I searched madly for the itty-bitty babies. I finally discovered that BeeBee had scooped them all inside her plastic hamster ball where she sat, happily feeding all eleven. As I peered down at her, she dislodged herself from the nest, struggled through the ball's opening and came to greet me, dragging eleven mouths with her.
As I witnessed the commitment of this new mother, I thought back over my own most challenging mothering moments. Realizing I had sewed the arm of a bride costume inside-out, then having to rip out the stitches and reassemble it after midnight; sleeping on the tile bathroom floor beside a flu-ridden five year old; adjusting work hours to be home with the kids after school.
Why do I do what I do as a mother? What is the invisible force driving me from sleep when I hear a child cry? What is the propelling momentum called commitment?
Other areas in my life have required commitment, like my marriage. Evan and I have been married for almost nineteen years. For the first fifteen or so he worked in a predictable setting, providing a predictable paycheck. Several years ago, though, I watched his soul "leaking" as I called it then. God had given him a dream, and he needed to follow it. We agreed it was time for him to leave his secure workplace and venture out on his own. I was scared, but I knew I had to support his decision. In the years since, when paychecks have been uncertain and the view beyond the present moment has been obscured, my commitment to Even has kept me steady.
But why? How can I keep moving forward and encouraging him when I can't see where we're going? Why don't I look for the easy way out? What motivates my commitment?
And then there's the realm of ministry. For nine years I've served in MOPS International, an outreach ministry of mothers. I love working at MOPS. I've experienced unbelievable highs, watching God meet moms and their needs. But I've endured low times as well. The enormous growth we've experienced over the years has brought moments of organizational lopsidedness. Sometimes I haven't wanted to face the low moments, much less lead the organization through them. Some days I've driven home from the office with tears running down my face. And, on certain nights, I've chased sleep around my bedroom unsuccessfully.
In one really bad moment, I begged God to release me from my ministry at MOPS. He didn't. So I've pressed on, looking to Him for courage as I continue to lead and find more and more reasons to stay.
Why? Why hold the mantle of leadership when it is often very heavy? Why endure through the hard times when I could be investing my energy elsewhere?
Mothering, marriage, and ministry - why do I do what I do? Do I stay because I said I would? Is it a commitment to my word that propels me? Do I stay because I have to? Am I committed merely because I feel obligated? Do I stay because it's the right thing to do? Is my commitment based on adherence to a moral code?
None of these seem to me compelling enough reasons to continue serving my children without thanks, supporting my husband when security remains an illusion, steering a ministry through stormy waters. I can't imagine giving my all to any area of my life just because "I have to." No amount of righteous morality will fuel my soul with energetic commitment in the wee hours of the night.
No, I think commitment is an issue of the heart. I keep my promises because I love Jesus, and the invisible strings of our relationships motivate and strengthen me. On some days, commitment means I listen to a lonnggg description of what happened in school when I'd rather be watching something on TV. On other days I pay the bills when Evan has an especially busy week, even though this chore is not on my list. And in yet other instances, I pour over the budget at MOPS, not because I especially enjoy it, but because it's vital to the ministry's success.
2 Timothy 2:13 says, "If we are faithless, He remains faithful; for He cannot deny Himself." Because He is committed to me, I strive to be committed to Him. Because Jesus gave His life for me, I respond in gratitude and give my life to Him. My commitment to those I love mirrors His commitment to me. Perhaps they'll notice and see more of Jesus in my commitment. Perhaps not. This I know: While the "sacrifices" I made in keeping my commitments in mothering, marriage, and ministry will never equal His, they are a language of love from my soul, saying to Jesus, Because You made me Yours, I remain Yours.
~ By Elisa Morgan
