The baby is napping. The kitchen exhaust fan is humming. This is my attempt at white noise to keep him sleeping; a buffer between dreamland and an active household. Hoping our sweet baby will remain asleep for a while longer, I attempt to sit down to enjoy my afternoon coffee. But he hollers through the baby monitor and the silence is cut short once again. My coffee remains sitting in the sunshine, while I leave my warm window perch to gather my smallest son in my arms.
The boy who made me a mother blew out 12 birthday candles today. It’s been twelve years since my first tiny son was placed on my chest. I looked at that eternal soul bound up in a helpless body and my heart cried silently to the God who gave him life: full of wonder, awe, and love, “Help me Lord, I have no idea what I am doing.”
I still feel like that.
I am regularly confronted with feelings of inadequacy, doubts that I am enough, fear that I am doing it all wrong. And it’s true that I am not adequate. It’s true that I am not enough. But my fears are silenced by a still, small voice. In my weakness, Jesus is strong. Despite all the times I mess up, my children and I are held tightly by a God with big hands. He is more than adequate; more than enough. And he loves my kids even more than I do.
In the crucible of motherhood I am learning to trust God when my task is too big for me. Because it is. That’s the point. Whatever we face that is beyond us is there for the purpose of making us run to Jesus, not to look deeper into ourselves.
Being a mom is hard. But by God’s grace I yell less than I used to. I am learning to be more thankful for the people that surround me. I’m growing in kindness. I’m learning to give of myself more readily, and grumble less when I don’t get my way.
Having fetched my sweet boy, I let the coffee cool. My hands are occupied holding something much more important. I’m busy holding onto things that matter while they’re still here for me to hold, and learning to let go of the times I get it wrong. Resting in the capable hands of grace.