“Puh-lease?!?!?” came the persistent begging, once again, from my Star Wars crazed son. He had only asked EVERY DAY to battle me—light-saber style, which is really not my style at all! Always after dinner. Always just as my hands were getting sudsy, cleaning the mess from the last half hour. It was always then that dinner dishes seemed like a far less daunting task than taking on the role of a Padewan.
But on this sunny, spring evening, I gave in to his constant pleading. “Find me a light saber” were the words that slipped out of my mouth.
I can’t claim to have Skywalker’s Jedi powers or have the grace of Princess Leia, but my son and I engaged in an intense battle, scurrying across our raised deck with backlashes and blocks, sound-effects accompanying, of course.
When from the pathway just off of our property came a comment about the fervent battle we were having. Startled (and obviously to my son’s advantage), I saw one of my co-workers, along with her entire family, taking a nice evening stroll and noticing our imaginary conflict. After a few good laughs together over the skills (or lack thereof!) this grade 1 teacher possessed, we all continued on our way.
I have to admit, although the burning red glow my face radiated might have given it away, I was a little embarrassed. But I also realized that I was just “being a mom” and investing in my child and his interests. How I appeared in the public’s eye meant very little to him…and probably meant very little to God.
When I ran into my co-worker later on that week at school, and we had to recount how entertaining their walk had become once they saw our dual, she laughed and commented to me how she saw me “being such a good mom.” Instead of embarrassment, the words I heard were ones of affirmation—that I was being the mom that I was supposed to be, and that the time invested in my kids—silly or serious—weren’t going unnoticed, particularly by the One Person who gave me this role in the first place.
It’s a wild thought to imagine that God could reaffirm a mother’s role through a Star Wars battle after dinner on the deck.
WHAT DO YOU THINK?
Such a simple thing to do but so often we don’t take the time. Good for you. I’m sure your son will treasure that memory as much as you!
I must admit, I would have enjoyed seeing that myself:). What I love about this, beyond all that you pointed out, is that you were willing to be vulnerable. That, as we all need to learn, as you did, is a beautiful thing.
Love this! These are the most important memories.