Of Mess and Moxie: Wrangling Delight Out of This Wild and Glorious Life

by Jen Hatmaker

But the truth is, most of life is pretty ordinary, so it is precisely inside the ordinary elements, the same ones found the world over—career, parenting, change, marriage, community, suffering, the rhythms of faith, disappointment, being a good neighbor, being a good human—that an extraordinary life exists.

Motherhood often feels like a game of guilt management; sometimes the guilt is overwhelming and debilitating, sometimes just a low simmer, but it always feels right there.

we are

the generation that does more for our kids than ever in history yet feels the guiltiest. Virtually every one of my friends provides more than they had growing up, and still the mantra we buy into is not enough, not enough, not enough.

That family doesn’t even exist.

Mamas, if we are winning roughly 80 percent of the votes, if the majority poll involves laughter and nurture, attention and grace, presence and patience, we are winning.

But victory isn’t compromised by individual losses; it is the result of slogging it out season by season, conversation by conversation, over months and miles of sweat and blood, and the cumulative total of more wins than losses secures the role, anchors the majority, makes the history books.

Justice and humor are equal heavy hitters for me.

First at bat: declaring faithfulness—not so much mine (as I kicked a piece of our fence down in fury) but God’s.

Next up: community.

Then: do the work.

Your neighbor wants to belong far more than she wants to be impressed.

So acknowledging the staying power of general tone over particulars is such a comfort;

healthy adult friends are a priority and life is better alongside them.

We promised our kids early and often: You can tell us anything. We won’t freak out. You can’t shock us. Nothing is a deal breaker, and everything is up for discussion. We primed the pump by broaching plenty of sticky conversations ourselves: • Who is already having sex in your grade? • What about God do you have trouble believing? • How do you and your gay friends talk about sexuality? • What do you struggle with? • What have you heard lately that you don’t understand? • What questions do you have about your own body? Obviously these questions are met with deer-in-the-headlights paralysis sometimes, but our kids have no doubt we meant what we said; we clearly aren’t afraid of any conversation, any subject, any issue.

We removed the cloak of silence that often suffocates hard topics, and with it went much of the corollary angst. For many teens, the hardest thing imaginable is even talking to their parents about real life, so once they do and discover that no one dies, it paves the road for all sorts of dialogue. Don’t wait for them to make the first move here, because teens are notoriously secretive and weird.

They are going after all, mamas. Let’s send them off adored, believed in, enjoyed, treasured, lest they forget that until our last breath, our doors are always open, our tables will always be full of food, their people are welcomed with open arms, and no matter what they say, they will always be ours.