I Still Remember The Moment

By Whitney Spears

I still remember the moment.

The slight panic of “How do I respond” before meeting the gaze of those eyes staring at me, waiting for a response or rebuke.

Smile, I thought. Don’t correct it. Just smile and answer the question. I saw relief flood her little eyes. We both knew I wasn’t the mama who birthed her. That didn’t need to be reiterated. The title was a reflection of the function she needed in the moment.

Love. An embrace. The embodiment of mama.

She needed something she’d lost as a toddler when her mother took her own life on their kitchen floor.

When she grabbed my arm that day after breaking the weeks of silence and said, “mama I’m hungry,” she didn’t need me to remind her that I’m not her natural mama as her cheeks flushed and her eyes filled with panic and pain. She needed to know the desperate longing of her heart would be met with the love it craved.

I didn’t know what I was signing up for

When I received my diploma and signed my first teaching contract, I was entirely unprepared for the reality that was coming. I didn’t know that I had been accepted into one of the most under-funded and un-appreciated careers that was filled with incredible classroom mamas – The ones who constantly say “yes” to showing up. The ones who daily give everything of themselves to tiny strangers who become a part of their being without sharing DNA.

Being yielded to doing more than teaching a curriculum unlocks something on the inside of you that can’t be explained in a short-answer praxis question. Partnering with Abba to understand aspects of motherhood years before ever bringing home a child has been a blessing I never saw coming.

It is the ability to be a place of love and stability in the lives of countless students, even if only for just 8-12 hours a day. It is the chance to co-labor with the weighty, deep affection of Abba’s heart through long days and short school years full of mama moments.

It is having a front row seat to seeing His love unfold broken spirits and calm wild, demonstrative attempts to be noticed.

It is the chance to dive into the depths of how fierce Abba Father’s love is for His children.

Most of all, it is being overcome and undone by the invitation to love children in your care with a love believed to be reserved for a child who would share your home and last name.

Maybe it came easily for me because I am adopted and I’ve never shared blood with my family. Maybe it’s because Abba so wrecked my heart with His love and care for me through the hands and hearts of those with whom I don’t even share a last name. I may never know the why, but I am beyond thankful.

I have transitioned out of the classroom and into a leadership role, but those mama moments have only intensified. I have yet to become a natural mother, yet I am content. Truly, content. I believe the day is coming where I will have a natural family of my own. However, today I have the daily privilege of filling the functional role of mama in the lives of over 180 kids in my care whenever they need it.

Knowing them by name.

Standing in while their mama works to put food on the table and a roof over their heads.

Going on walks with the high-strung little one who is acting out and needs a minute to calm their over-stimulated mind and body.

Loving with His love and helping shape the lens through which they grow in a critical period of development.

I can imagine no higher honor.

You are changing lives

I see you in the classroom, mama. I see the shoes you tie and the tears you dry. I see the milestones you’ve celebrated, the neglect you’ve reported, the interventions you’ve made, the planning periods you’ve given up because they needed you.

I see the nights and weekends you’ve filled with preparing for them. I see the bank account you’ve emptied over and over to cultivate an inviting learning environment, to fill hungry bellies, and to replenish empty backpacks.

Your kids, (yes, they’re yours too), are changed by your daily decision to show up . . . to stay. You’re the calm in their chaos and the constant in their world of uncertainty. You’ve been there through the revolving door of boyfriends that come and go at home. You’ve been there through locked doors, shuffling from house to house, and nights at the bar with their wayward parent. You’ve been there with a smile, an embrace, a meal.

You’ve given every bit of yourself to them for every moment they’re with you. You’ve sent them home with concern filling your eyes because of the reflection in theirs as they walk away. You’ve made the hard decisions. You’ve gone above and beyond. They may have fought back or made progress that is almost imperceptible, but I see you.

He sees you.

When you turn on the lights each morning. When the recess monitor brings the class back and walks that student to your desk (again). When you’re repeating your instructions for the millionth time – He is right there with you.

He will sustain your tired body and fill you with an abundance of grace. He knows the lives you’re changing by loving those you can’t bring home with a love as deep as if you could. He’s a proud daddy who is watching His daughter say yes to His children.

You can do it again tomorrow.

So, as you walk into the school to welcome the challenges each day brings-know that you are not alone. Lean into the weakness you feel and be filled, moment by moment, by the mighty power of an ever present Father who cares for you, and each one of your kids, more than you can fathom.

“But he answered me, “My grace is always more than enough for you, and my power finds its full expression through your weakness.” So I will celebrate my weaknesses, for when I’m weak I sense more deeply the mighty power of Christ living in me. So I’m not defeated by my weakness, but delighted! For when I feel my weakness and endure mistreatment—when I’m surrounded with troubles on every side and face persecution because of my love for Christ—I am made yet stronger. For my weakness becomes a portal to God’s power.” 2 Corinthians‬ ‭12:9-10‬ ‭TPT‬‬

To the mama 8 hours a day:

Hey Mama, I see you
And I know that’s not your name
But 8 hours a day you’ve taken that role
Sending kiddos home, different from how they came.

Hey Mama, I see you
With the stash of snacks inside your desk
Because we all know when you’re hungry
It’s hard to take the math test.

Hey there, Mama, I see you
Lying awake in bed
Who greeted them when they got off the bus?
Are they safe? Warm? Are their needs met? 

It’s ok, Mama, I see you
Working hard day after day
Teaching more than just academics
Letting love lead the way.