Mother Tara

A while back one of my girls told me, "Tara, you're like Mother Teresa...with mood swings."  Truly, I WISH I was like Mother Teresa, but I'm afraid the latter portion of that [compliment?...insult?...whatever it was], is probably more true of me.  Still, somehow this comment seems to come back to mind over and over again; mostly because I thought it was hilarious, and partly because I hoped it was true.  I hoped that, aside from all of my weaknesses, there might be something special I have to give, or to be in my world.

I've been at TC for almost seven years now.  Wow...seven years.  That is a whole lot of living with teenage females.  But man, it's been an incredible seven years.  I've walked in the mud with hundreds of girls, one on one, heart to heart, soul to soul, and experienced great tragedies and triumphs.  Through the years, I've noticed girls constantly start calling us staff "mom" over time.  Maybe it has to do with the counselor-counselee relationship; maybe it has to do with being the one telling them to pick up their rooms, do their laundry, clean their plates, take their meds and be kind to their friends.  Or maybe it's about something more, something we all burn for - someone to believe in us, to see the best in us and find a way to draw it out; to stick with us through our ugliest days and walk the journey of life, together.

I have to be honest, the moodier side of this "Mother Tara" comes out way more often than I like.  I have literally responded to students who call me "mom," by saying, "I'm not your mom, stop calling me that."  I don't mean it rude; I actually mean it out of respect.  I have a great deal of admiration for the hard work, sacrifice and love that these girls' moms have put into their lives - even if the extent of that was simply bringing them into the world on Day One.  But I've found that there's a part of me that cringes inside when girls start calling me "mom."  To call me a counselor, a coach or a mentor - I can handle that.  I can put time restrictions, boundaries and limitations on that.  But to call me "mom" - that gets intimate.  That gets expensive.

I got a good spanking from Jesus this week about this mothering business.  One of the girls asked me again last week (as she has about a hundred times) if I would adopt her.  As we played and joked about it, the Lord spoke to me, "Tara, why do you think girls keep asking you this?  What do you think they're really asking for?"  I have had multiple teenage girls ask me over the years to adopt them.  They're joking, of course (I think), but often behind the joke there is this hidden cry: "Keep me.  Hold onto me.  Don't let me go.  I need you."  I'm ashamed to say that many times when I begin to feel that request, I draw back.  I'm not a mother.  Absolutely I want to be a mom one day, but for now, I'm a single, independence-loving girl, and when I feel like someone might be asking too much of my independence, I draw back.  

In Paul's letters to Timothy, he refers to Timothy as his son; not his counselee, student, or (ouch), "project."  Paul saw those God entrusted to him as sons, and I'm finding the same to be true of God's call on my own life.  I'm being challenged - painfully challenged - to love beyond my limitations, to go beyond mentoring to mothering. 

God help me with the mood swings...I want to mother well.