Businesses have mission statements. Nonprofit organizations have mission statements. Some families even have mission statements. So of course, I needed a mission statement for the most difficult job I’ve ever tackled: motherhood.
The inspiration came after a particularly frenzied day when my sandwich fell on the floor (you’re welcome, dogs) and we were out of food in the fridge and my mother was calling and Bee was whining because her onesie didn’t have a pocket and my shirt had a pocket and where was her pocket and she wanted a pocket(!) and it was just… a giant ball of messy, tightly-wound moments of stress string.
My instinct was to respond on the fly, letting the moment’s frenzy take over and yell or stomp or perhaps lock myself in the bathroom for a good cry. But then I remembered something I’d read earlier:
We leave a legacy for our children, in every moment of every day.
And I wanted my legacy to be one of grace and peace and love.
A mission statement is a glorified mantra of sorts, something to reflect and repeat so many times that it becomes woven into our very being. It becomes a new brain pattern, a new way of thinking. A new pre-conditioned response for when we’d prefer to throw our phone out the window because it won’t stop ringing and the baby is fussy and the dishes are piling and we can’t figure out where we left our wallet.
For those moments, I remember my own mission statement:
I seek to be a mother who responds gently, serves happily and loves openly.
I want to choose wisdom, kindness and grace.
I want the gratitude for my life to fuel a compassion for others.
What’s your motherhood mission statement?