By Neely Richer 
Trenches: defined in war as long, deep ditches, dug as protective defenses. It’s also sometimes what this space between the church pews can feel like, where toys get lost, pacis disappear, bottles are never warm or cold enough, and noises seem so loud— incredibly loud.
It’s often where my soul knows this is where it can find rest, but my worn-out mind and body take precedence. The area where I count down the moments until children’s church, and the heroes of those classes take them for a few precious moments. I whisper away the guilt I feel from being relieved that it’s children’s church with the self-explanation that “well, they are learning about Jesus.” Worrying both that I am enjoying the silence too much and not enough.
I usher my mind back to reality when I think the pastor says turn to Acts, chapter 30, and then realize as I flip the pages that there is no Acts, chapter 30, and surely he misspoke because I thought I was paying attention. I wasn’t paying attention. There wasn’t enough of the silent moments to not think about the grocery list, the doctor’s office that needs called, the medicine dosage that needs given, the play date that needs rescheduled, and the house that needs attention.
There is no Acts, chapter 30, and I don’t think they are in Acts anymore. I set my Bible down as the baby needs a bottle, and he won’t settle, so I leave the quiet of the service and head to the hallway where I can rock and shhh and settle both him and myself before going back in.
And one more thought gently swishes through my brain, “Well, at least we made it.” At least we were here on time, and they got to their classes for the day. They will enjoy coloring and learning, and I can sit here and listen to the pastor speak about something in Acts.
My back hits the pew chair one more time, and I look down at the flat toy box my children have made from the floor of the sanctuary, and I catch the last 10 minutes of the sermon. Tuned in as absolutely best that I can be, when I realize this is what motherhood is and what it’s full of. I realize in that moment, we did more than just make it this morning. That motherhood is being in the trenches.
It’s prayers.
It’s support.
It’s conviction.
It’s decisions.
It’s love.
It’s devotion.
It’s compassion.
It’s hard.
It’s wonderful.
It’s challenging.
It’s knowing that trench warfare is what it’s going to take to raise Bible-believing and Truth-speaking children in this world. It’s standing in the trenches of life, this life between the two end caps of birth and death that I exist for my children, my sweet loud babes surrounding me in the pew, and do everything I can to point them toward the call of the Father.
So mama, whether you went today or not, go next Sunday. Whether you haven’t been in years or you are there all the time, show up. When it looks hard, as if it’s not worth it, go anyway. When the three kids wallering you are drowning out the details of the message, keep going. When it feels like a lot of dressing up, to just sit in the nursery, dress up.
This mama will meet you in the trenches, and more than that, it is where the King of Kings is waiting for you.
Originally published on the author’s Facebook page
by Marissa Khosh 
by Beth Bacon 
