It was a surprise attack.

The morning was yet dark and all I did was walk out our bedroom door.

When suddenly! They popped out from seemingly nowhere.

Three tousle-headed little boys all reaching for me at once. The shortest one grabbing my knees and another around my waist. The third managing to hug me from behind. Soon we were a tangled mess of arms and legs.

Of course, I shrieked. Who wouldn't under such circumstances?

This was just the effect they appeared to be hoping for, this pajama-clad, up-to-no-good gang.

But not willing to go down without a fight, I resorted to my own underhanded technique - tickling - while shouting out to my husband for help.

I could see him in the distance.

Standing at the top of the stairs and not taking a single step toward my rescue. He simply stood there observing the mayhem.

Smiling.

He had the strangest expression on his face.

Looking as if I'd somehow done something great. Like I'd done something far greater than merely shuffle out the bedroom door that morning.

From his vantage point, he could see a far bigger picture.

It was as though he wasn't only watching the wife he'd married; he was watching the mother of his children. These were his sons. And those girls watching all the fun were his daughters.

And this lady in her fuzzy bathrobe and well-worn slippers? Their mom.

Feeling more sleepy than great.

I can't say that he and I talk about it all that much.

This motherhood thing.

At least not directly. Oh, occasionally he references the things I "let go" along the way. The sleep I've lost. The noise I've put up with. The days gone by. The opportunities turned down. The dreams put aside.

Because he knows a woman lays down a lot when she's a mom.

The world knows it too. And some people think she sacrifices a bit too much. I'm aware of this because it's often mentioned whenever I'm out and about. Target. Costco. Even the library.

They take pity on me when they see me with my boisterous brood. You poor dear.

Why would someone like me - or someone like you - give up everything? Just to be a mother.

Give up?

Hmmm...That’s an interesting perspective.

But I happen to view it quite differently.

A mother doesn't give up everything. Rather, she is given a gift. She is blessed.

It's mom who has this incredible privilege of pouring into these young lives - these small souls who stand before her.

Their dear little faces turned upwards.

Watching and wondering.

Drinking it all in.

She has the honor to teach them right from wrong. To pray for them in the middle of the night. To cool their feverish foreheads or rub their little backs. To wipe the dirt off their faces and kiss their boo-boo's.

To build them up.

To hug and to hold.

A mom gets the chance to show her children the love of God.

So maybe my husband could see more clearly from where he stood that early morning. He could see that in the middle of all that noise and laughter, something truly great was going on. He saw that a crew of crazy little boys, in their own funny way, were rising up to call their mother blessed.

What a precious gift we've been given.

All these children.

God's children.