You know, I was perfectly content to host the Ultimate Frisbee birthday event at the park; it was to be a very casual and memorable day, shared with church friends and school friends, youth group leaders and siblings, free of controversy and drama.

There’s something about being a mom that amazes, overwhelms and humbles me: having the ability to think clearly in a situation that concerns the safety of my children.

In that respect, I was an unapologetic mama bear last weekend.

My autopilot switch flipped when a dearly loved family member who flew into town for our oldest daughter’s 16th birthday arrived in a state of — well, it wasn’t good. She violated boundaries we had clearly stated before.

I don’t know which is worse: having absolutely no memory of my 16th birthday (that would be me), or spending my 16th birthday apologizing countless times for a spectacle nobody wanted to acknowledge.

I refused to let our boundaries be moved. I had warned her not to do this again, so I called her husband in their hometown and told him to book her on the next flight out because she was leaving that day, not staying another six as she had planned. Only she refused to be taken to the airport; we spent the afternoon on the phone making arrangements to get her back to her home.

My heart broke for my daughter who had to wait in the wings while I dealt with the situation as it pertained to my household. At that point I was incapable of worrying about this family member and did what I had to do. I stood where I needed to stand. I set my face like flint and did not back down.

I was numb. She sent hateful, belligerent text messages to my phone. Yawn. Been here, done this a dozen times before. Still, I felt nothing for myself, only for my children. Oddly, I was okay with that.

But Sunday morning came, and as I sang on the platform in church, tears came from nowhere and just wouldn’t stop. I was singing praises to my King when I suddenly began to feel all the emotions I couldn’t feel the day before: betrayal, sadness, worry, hopelessness, helplessness, anger, grief….

In that sacrifice of praise, Jesus met me there and gave me what I did not know I needed: a good cry.

© Alexa Lopez, 2008