A new baby was born in the community last night and my nostalgia for mothering is brimming.

Being a Mom, bringing life into the world, caring for those little ones and imparting a grand sense of the adventure of living as they grow, is one of the most profound privileges this world holds.

My own young Mom years were an open canvas upon which to explore and find what truly made me tick. The privilege of staying home with my five little ones gave opportunity to find my own creative successes, increasing confidence and strong beauty along the way; learning to love and sacrifice and prioritize and see with bigger perspective.

My 17 year old has a pretend baby from school this weekend. One that cries and needs to be burped, whose head must not be moved or points are detracted, and must not be left alone whatsoever (she has a bracelet that records everything). I've been reminded of the work of a baby, the work of little ones.

I loved being a stay-at-home mom. A home-body by nature, hunkering amongst my personal comforts and routines has always been a strong thread in me, even as I venture out and about, and more lately out and about half-way across the world.

It is in this call to other places (another possible two to three trips to Uganda this year), that has me looking back and even more glad, profoundly glad, for those years that I spent at home.

My profound thankfulness for the time that I spent full-on with my kids cannot be overstated. As I look ahead and pre-grieve all that I will be missing from here on out, I am simply and profoundly grateful that I invested so much of my life in my children.

They are years that can never be taken away, but that I could have quite easily missed.

They were not perfect years by any means. So much went wrong in those years, so many things that should never have been. So much chaos, that I became utterly bone weary by the end of those stay-at-home years, and became quite useless for some time, both emotionally and in terms of being physically present.

But what I do know, was that I was faithful. And the other thing I know: it all boils down to faithfulness. Every single last bit of it.

No matter what we are about, are we faithful?

The faithful places grow their own rewards, sow their own seeds towards our future.

Faithfulness is the key ingredient towards promotion and honour of any kind.

Simply put, are you faithful to what is before you at this time?

Am I faithful with what is before me at this time?

It is almost like nothing else matters, so large is this issue of faithfulness.

It is these Mom years that prove us. That try us and then try us some more. Pushed to the very edge of endurance and patience and emotional stamina, we find out what we are made of, and we find out if we are faithful.

My 17 year old daughter had to burp her pretend baby for 45 minutes the other night. She couldn't believe it, was incredulous and vehemently declared there is no way a real baby might need to be burped for that long. To which I replied, "Oh yes they just might."

Faithfulness, once it is proved, reaps its rewards, and becomes a catalyst for more of the same.

My trip to Uganda turned out a few surprises, and one of them is this thing of mothering. There for only a few short weeks, I nevertheless came to clearly see that Uganda is a nation that has raised itself.

Between the brutal dictatorial years with President Idi Amin in the 1970's, the Aids crisis that has resulted in untold numbers of orphans, and the habits of polygamy that bred profound family upheaval and destruction, the Ugandan people have been raising themselves.

Near the end of my trip I was presented with a traditional Ugandan dress and jewelry. The kind, I was told, that Mothers wear. And in the presentation and giving of this dress was declared that I was now a Mother of Uganda.

Being a Mom, while a privilege in and of itself, is there for women as a proving ground of character and habits and faithfulness. All of which reveals itself in the calling and work that we have been given that goes far beyond raising children.

Women are not designed to be mothers forever, our bodies prohibit it. And the thing is, there are a great many other things in this world that desperately need the lessons of those years, the character and strength and wisdom that growing children makes of us.

After all, faithfulness in one arena, simply yet quite profoundly positions us for faithfulness on those larger arenas that move our gifts and strengths outside our own four walls, to the world beyond.

Proven faithful with a little we are given much.

We welcome our newest Mom on the scene: may you be mightily blessed in your own proving grounds.