Mamas, Stronger Together – Guest Series: Christian mothers have such a strength when we let down our guard and get real with each other, stop comparing ourselves to other mothers, when we stop making motherhood a competition, and instead build each other up as fellow mothers! Over the next weeks, we will hear from various Christian mamas who are each brave, beautiful, and strong in sharing the messages God has placed on their hearts. Enjoy the below message of encouragement from Katie Sampias.

“Hello beautiful mama,” is how Francesca greets me. She has been sweeping some chalk or sand off the covered area where children have been playing all day, as she stops to speak to me. Her curly black hair is swept back neatly in a ponytail where the true extent of its curliness is hidden. Her dark skin emanates a glow of health and joy. Her beauty is extraordinary and not in the commercial sense. It is a beauty which comes from within.

“Yes, she’s had a good day,” she tells me about Madeline.

“How has her behaviour been today?” I ask, knowing my Madeline has a love of pushing boundaries and her understanding of the difference between funny and naughty is hazy at best. This is something we are working on at home and with the educators at the daycare.

“Oh, she’s alright. She is still running away when it is time to change her nappy…but I see she is improving. Today she was better at sharing the toys with her friend, Gemma. I love her…I love her fun,” Francesca tells me with her own mischievous, twinkly eyes.

We carry on chatting for a bit. I ask Francesca about her neck that she injured recently. She tells me that she thinks it is getting a little better and that she didn’t like that she had to be away.

“I love my children,” she tells me. “I miss them when I am away. They make my heart feel full,” she tells me by gesturing with her hands.

“I think that is a true gift,” I tell her.

She gives me a gentle smile.

My children see me.

“Mummy!” Madeline yells. Her eyes are full of delight as she runs towards me and lunges at me for a cuddle. She expertly puts her thumb in her mouth for added comfort once contact with me has been established.

Genevieve sees me but insists she needs a little bit more time to play with her friends. I take a seat with Madeline and snuggle with her while Genevieve finishes her game of tag with her friends.

Francesca and I continue to chat a little about how her children are changing schools, as her eldest is transitioning to high school and about swimming since our children attend the same swim school.

“I love our chats. We have had such a hard day as a lot of staff have been sick, but speaking with you makes me feel good in here,” she says as she puts her hand over her heart.

“I feel the same way!” I tell her.

We talk about how we saw each other recently at the shops on our way to swimming on her day off and my children’s day off from childcare. Francesca’s joy had overflowed as she had called out to Madeline and ran to hug her in the car park.

“It was good seeing you on Wednesday when we were going to swimming,” I say.

“I love my day off with my children. I would like more time off as work is so tiring, but there is such a shortage of staff. It is hard working four days as my husband works six. Could you imagine? And on Sundays, it’s church. And now we don’t know who will be working in the Peace Room, as Emma and Dale are leaving,” Francesca tells me.

My heart sinks. I feel Francesca’s struggles as my own. I only want the best for her and want her to be happy and for life to be good to her. I also feel sadness. Without my knowing, my being a mother has meant that I have become incredibly attached to certain of my children’s educators and generally invested in the day care. I love seeing my children thrive at the centre, and I get such a positive energy exchange from the educators at drop off and pick up through the mutual love we all have for my children. Many of them, Francesca in particular, exude pure love, and to me it feels as if they are overflowing with it—this love is overflowing onto me and my children. They are the humblest, open, and honest people I have ever met, and sometimes, I shed a tear thinking about how beautiful they are. It makes me so sad to realise they have their own struggles.

“Oh no,” is all I can manage to say.

A few minutes later Genevieve comes over to Madeline and me and it is time to go.

“Bye Francesca. We will see you tomorrow,” I say.

Madeline gives Francesca a cuddle before we go and my two girls race each other through the corridor, out the gate and past the church to where a statue of an angel stands.

“Can we talk to the angel?” Genevieve asks.

“Just for a little while,” I say.

I sit on the steps outside the church while my girls play and begin to ponder the sorrow that has come on so suddenly after Francesca’s words—a reminder that where there is joy, hardship is never too far away. The light is fading from the day and overhead, a spectacular orange and scarlet sunset is being written. I look up to see it and I feel consoled by some thoughts.

The sunset marks an ending, but God’s artwork shows his promise that even though there is darkness, light will come once again in the morning. Life is full of these cycles and seasons. We may not be able to remain in the joyous moments as much as we would like, but just knowing that nothing lasts forever makes it a little easier to let go of the joyful moments when they end and endure the struggles as we wait for the joy to come again.

Also…

God is out of time. One day we will be with God out of time and there will be no end of joy.

Katie Sampias lives in Brisbane, Australia with her husband and three small children – two girls and a boy. She loves to write and has a special interest in exploring the gospels through the points of view of women. You can read more of her writing at www.whitewaves.net and follow her on Instagram @surfingwhitewaves