Welcome at God's party

I like to think I fly the banner for averagely-achieving mums. Recently, we held our first proper, kids-high-on-candy birthday party. And by ‘held’, I mean, we got the people at McDonald’s to provide (what can only loosely be called) food—as well as balloons, gift bags and a playground.

I made a cake. And by ‘made’, I mean I bought a giant banana cake with chocolate icing at Pak ’n Save, iced over it using a whole bottle of red food colouring, then plonked on a picture of Lightning McQueen (a sassy race car, and my son’s hero). 

The whole shebang was a health and safety nightmare … and the kids loved it! They slid, banged, ran, jumped and kapowed. They ate fried food. I got several compliments for my ‘double-iced’ cake (my lips are sealed). And when everyone had left, a wonderful thought crossed my mind. ‘It’s someone else’s job to tidy up.’

But for me, the best moment—or more accurately, the most breath-taking moment—was when my son Jacob put his four-year-old arms around me and whispered, ‘I’m so proud of you, Mummy.’ It was a moment he has surely forgotten, but I will never forget. Those words were like a candle flickering in the dark. Proud of me? The mum who rents a party and doesn’t even bake a cake.

In the past, I have tried so hard to be an A+ mum … and failed spectacularly to live up to my own expectations. According to the blogosphere, motherhood is about how well you can create perfectly organic meals, while keeping your home Pinterest-perfect, rocking your child to sleep with no thought to your own bone-tiredness, and crafting toys by your own hand. All while blogging about your perfect life as a mum.

Feeling the weight of failure spiralled me into postnatal depression when Jacob was born, and since then, I’ve been on a journey of slowly realising that being an average parent is actually okay. It’s okay to be average at baking, cleaning, crafting and remembering bath time. It’s even okay to underachieve in party management. Because we are giving extraordinary love, attention, care and affection every day. And most of the time we do remember bath time. Like so much in God’s world, it’s the unseen things that matter the most. 

Fast-forward four years, and I’m taking my child to McDonald’s for his birthday. I like to think I’ve learnt a thing or two about letting go of false expectations. 

Jacob constantly reminds me of how God sees us. We expend so much energy trying to be successful. If life is a party, we’re striving to have the most fashionable outfit, the killer dance moves, the best jokes and the most expensive toys. Yet God cuts right through all our successes and failures. He loves us deeply and widely and vastly. God puts his arms around us and whispers, ‘I’m so proud of you.’

Everyone is welcome to God’s party. And even though our culture doesn’t give us permission, I think that God gives us permission to sometimes—just sometimes—let others tidy up. While we bask with him in the beautiful chaos of life.

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by Ingrid Barratt (c) 'War Cry' magazine, 23 July 2016, pp3
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