Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

husbands and wives

Stretched

Day 19. These last few days seem the hardest. Even though the kids and I have kept busy with outings and visits, with still more planned between now and Sunday, I’m just plain old worn out. If this were a marathon (and by the way, I am not, nor do I ever see myself being, a runner), I’d be nearing the finish line, wondering if I could make it to the end. Sometimes I think I don’t have the mental toughness for such endurance.

When my husband (then my fiance) was in Iraq, I thought of our relationship in terms of a huge rubber band. Each of us was standing on one side of it, and the farther apart we were geographically, the more our relationship was stretched. Sometimes it seemed like it was so tight it was going to snap. But we held on and eventually, we came back together, stretched but tighter somehow.

I’m feeling stretched again. I’m glad I don’t have to go on this way indefinitely. I’m desperately hanging on for Sunday, hoping I won’t be too exhausted to enjoy being together.

Hoping, too, that once again, our relationship will be stronger because we were stretched.

Moms who do it all shouldn’t have to

Day 14. One more week to go. Am I a wuss to be missing my husband and wanting this separation to end? I feel like I should buck up and relish the chance to do this parenting thing all by myself. After all, millions of parents lead their families by themselves year after year. Three weeks? No big deal, right?

Honestly, I don’t know how single parents do it day in, day out. Even though I have my parents and grandparents, and my in-laws, not to mention the kids’ aunts and uncles on occasion, to help, I still feel the burden of responsibility for my children — a burden I’m used to sharing.

I don’t know if the kids recognize a difference with my husband gone, but I know they are missing out on a whole different aspect of parenting. I’m not comfortable tossing my son in the air, but I don’t mind if my husband does. I’m not as good at wrestling with my daughter as he is, either. I usually jokingly say that he’s the fun one, I’m the serious one. I’m missing the fun side, and I’m a poor substitute.

With Mother’s Day tomorrow, we celebrate all that mothers do for their children, and that would be a much longer blog if I tried to list what I, or any other mom, do for their kids. And there’s a sense of pride in knowing we “do it all” for our families, but I wonder how often we ask for help.

I like the feeling of accomplishment I have when I’ve completed a challenging task, but I don’t want to be the kind of wife who doesn’t need my husband for anything. I don’t want to be Supermom or Mrs. Incredible. Too much pressure. I’m content to do what I can and let others step in when I’m in over my head.

I know that being a single parent isn’t always a choice a person gets to make. Sometimes it’s chosen for her, and I in no way judge or condemn the single parent. I admire her. She’s an amazing woman (and the majority of single parents are women, thus the gender choice), and getting just a taste of what her life must be like makes me want to do all I can to help her.

What do single moms need most? How can the church offer their hands and lives to those who are raising kids by themselves?

Happy Mother’s Day!