God calls the humility bluff of every woman who becomes a mother. We humble ourselves in the sight of the Lord, because we have very little choice in the matter. Anyone claiming to be Christian must say that he would, of course, happily do whatever work to which God appoints him. But women have particular opportunity to put the money of their lives where their Christian mouths are. A mother's home is a landfill and a sewage treatment plant, and she is not the foreman. She is the grunt in a position with no upward mobility. She does, even on Mother's Day, those jobs we give as examples of the jobs no one wants to do.
Then--then! When she knows what she is getting into--not like that first time around when being pregnant and having a smiley baby to carry around seemed like methods of enhancing personal cuteness--she does not veer onto the first exit ramp, but says, "I guess I'll stick with this." She starts to get it. She's not that awesome. She's not too good or too smart or
too delicate for any job in the kingdom. Better to spray out noxious diapers in the King's service than to idle away her days trying on flirty shoes in the harem of His enemy, because someday that perv is going to remember her and call her name.
Even the little dogs eat the crumbs which fall from the master's table. Yip yip yip.