To all the Hannah’s

So tomorrow is Mother’s Day. My first Mother’s Day actually. Well, the first one where I’m the mother. I guess I’ve celebrated a lot of Mother’s Day, but never one like this.  

You know we waited three years for Bo. And tried on our own for a year and a half before that. So I’ve had a lot of hopeful, painful, frustrating, depressing Mother’s Days. And during those five years, I’ve had to sit through my fair share of Mother’s Day sermons. Please don’t get me wrong, I love mothers and I want to celebrate mine all day every day. Because she did me so right! Still does me so right. But when all you want to be is a mother, sitting through, yet another, sermon on Hannah is the last thing you want to do. Hannah is like the biblical token example of motherhood. She’s our go-to for an uplifting sermon on mothers and their sacrifices. I know preachers mean well. And I’m not mad at them for giving us a beautiful reminder of a mother’s love. And that’s what Hannah’s story partially is. Tomorrow’s sermon, that may very well be on Hannah, will probably not bring such agitation as it has in years past.  But when you’ve literally been in Hannah’s shoes. When you’ve hoped like her. Been desperate like her. When you’ve prayed like her, to the point of incoherent babbling through a hand towel full of tears, and you’re still in the same place you were two years ago it’s hard to have an open heart about Hannah’s eventual blessing. It’s hard to sit in a church full of people you know are thinking about you while listening to Hannah’s story.

I’ve been fairly open about our adoption wait and struggle. Mainly because I’m the worst poker player on the face of the planet. I’m terrible at hiding my emotions. So there was no way I could make it through without anyone knowing something was up. And sharing both the struggle and celebration has been the biggest blessing. So every Mother’s Day for the past three years, I’ve felt every single eye on me as the annual mother sermon is delivered. Am I being a little dramatic about “every single eye?” Probably. But only slightly. I went in with a bad attitude and came out with a bad attitude. Thinking in my head how tired I was of Hannah. It was like the Brady bunch scene where Jan complains about Marcia getting so much attention “Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!” Except I was going “Hannah, Hannah, Hannah!” Followed by several inner eye rolls. You know the kind you hid from your mother when you didn’t want a flip flop thrown at you, but you needed some outward sign of your frustration.

It was jealousy and pride that made me not want to hear lessons about Hannah. She got her happy answered prayer that I so desperately desired. I didn’t want to contemplate her happiness while I was still waiting. Especially in such a public setting where I felt so judged. My dislike of Hannah had everything to with my selfishness and lack of faith in God’s timing and nothing to do with sweet, strong Hannah. It seems like Hannah’s prayer was answered so quickly. Because everything is tied up in one little chapter. We meet her, learn about her life, her deepest heartache and hope, see her pray in full faith, and see that prayer answered all in 28 verses. It makes it seem like it all happens very quickly. That’s why paying attention to verses like 3 and 7 are so important. “So it went on year by year.” We can’t let the brevity of the chapter detract from her overall battle. Hannah fought long and hard just like the rest of us. Hannah has every right and qualification to be taught on Mother’s Day. I think sometimes when we’re in a place of desperation we feel like there isn’t enough God to go around. There isn’t enough of Him to answer all of our prayers. So I need to get to Him first. Pray for me first before adding anyone else to the list. Like if he answers someone else before us that His prayer-answering power is all used up. Or if he doesn’t answer us in the same way as someone else with a similar battle, we often think we’ve been forgotten. That’s another reason I didn’t want to talk about Hannah. I was praying the same way she was but wasn’t getting her results. Hannah is a compelling reminder that there are plenty of answered prayers to go around.

I love the juxtaposition of Hannah’s weeping and strength. For too long I thought myself weak for breaking down through tears. Constantly. I cry constantly. I thought it made me a weak and useless person. Until a friend mentioned in a Bible class how absurd that thought was. And she was absolutely right. It is ridiculous to think that we lose strength when crying. I don’t think anyone would read Hannah’s story and think her weak. Though for a good chunk of her little chapter here, she’s weeping. I love how Hannah defends herself when Eli makes his offensive assumption that she’s drunk praying. She isn’t drunk but has been “pouring out her soul”. I think Hannah hit the nail on the proverbial head when describing both prayer and motherhood. Both are and should be a constant pouring out of one’s soul.

Prayer should be full of emotion, honesty, and dependence. Just like Hannah’s, If we’re not pouring out our soul to God in prayer – what are we even doing? Prayer should be the one place that we give everything over to God. There’s no point in pretending with God. He already knows everything. That is the time you should be the most honest. Honest in your struggle. In your frustration. In your acknowledgment of your dependence. In your distress. “Pouring out your soul” is the best way to pray. Shame on Eli for thinking the worst. Shame on him for a lot of things. But right now, we’ll just shame him for immediately thinking judgment instead of compassion.

But Hannah’s response is also a beautiful and accurate depiction of raising children. Being a mother means constantly pouring out your soul to, for, and on behalf of our little people. I knew this before becoming a mother. Of course, I’ve seen it in my own mother and grandmothers, in the moms of my friends that loved me as their own. In my friends that became mothers before me. In good teachers. I’ve seen a constant never-ending stream of soul pouring from all the women around me throughout my life.

And it’s beautiful.

Children get a bad rap. They’re too loud. Too messy. Too rambunctious. Break too many things. Cost too much money. Ask too many questions. And they are all of those, but maybe without the “too”. That’s where the negativity comes in. And that’s where my problem comes in as well. Before Bo, while we were still waiting, people joked about the life changes that were coming our way. I always thought “Well duh, we’re getting a tiny person that can’t talk but wants things from us. Yeah, it’s going to different.” And it was always in such a negative way. It was always this “just wait” mentality like they were out to get us. Part of what made me so mad was that I was waiting. “Just waiting” and praying was all I could do. I was waiting and praying for exactly what they already had. What they were taking for granted. What they were complaining about. If they were in Hannah’s story, they would be Peninnah. You don’t ever want to be a Peninah.

Y’all, we have to stop talking about our kids like they’re some major inconvenience that we wish weren’t around. We’ve got to stop complaining about them. We’ve got to stop complaining because we’ve got Hannah’s out there who go to bed spent and tear-filled because they’ve just poured out their soul to God for children to love. We’ve got to stop complaining because our children can hear.

I think we forget that children are souls. Souls God has given us to raise in His word and for His glory. Yeah raising children is hard and tiring.

That’s because it’s kingdom work.

Babies are hard. Toddlers are hard. Children are hard. Teenagers are hard. But at every stage of life, your tiny person is a soul. A soul that Jesus died for. A soul that God desires to spend eternity with. And it’s our responsibility to get them there. To get them to the point where they value being holy over being rich. Where they value others more than themselves. Where they willingly set down their personal aspirations to carry the cross. That’s a heavy responsibility. Parents, we should be tired. Mothers, you should be tired. Because you’ve poured out your soul for years for God’s greater good.

That is tiring. But oh so fulfilling.

Hannah handled disappointment well. Long, long disappointment. Even through provocation and taunting. Even through what looks like a husband that doesn’t understand. Hannah, I don’t know how you didn’t punch Elkanah in the face when he asked you if he wasn’t enough. I want to punch him now. And Hannah, I really don’t know how you refrained from saying anything back to Peninnah. I can think of a lot of things to say to her, all of which would make God and my Nanna very unhappy.

So to my waiting mothers, do it like Hannah. Stick with God. Hannah raised Samuel well. Well as much as I can tell. We don’t know much about this short season of life. We know Samuel wasn’t with her long. But what we can clearly see is her godly attitude about having and raising him. She knew Samuel was meant for more than simply making her happy and filing her heart. Which he did. But he was meant to do the Lord’s work. She knew that. It was her top priority. She loved. She sacrificed. She poured out. She was a mother. So, Hannah, I’m sorry. Sorry for my jerk behavior in the past few years. Hannah, you did things right and there was no reason for me to grow weary of hearing about and learning from you. You turned to God for salvation and comfort at each challenge. When your husband didn’t understand, when your priest didn’t understand, you turned to the One who could and did understand. And that is something we should all do.

To all the Hannah’s out there, in all the stages of her life, before, during, and after –

Happy Mother’s Day.