I am in a season where I have to daily depend on Jesus to make it through. When our third baby joined the pack in October, it was clear: there is no manning up, no putting on my big girl panties, no “being enough” that will suffice. This is where I meet the end of myself. And that scares me. But it’s also all I’ve ever wanted.
What a gift. What a gift I have been given, to be thrown, flailing, into this season of desperation. O, and I am flailing. Scattered and spread thin and forgetful, I don’t even feel at home in my own mind or body. Truly, I am incapable of being enough.
I have had opportunity after opportunity to choose this – to surrender my own sufficiency for His strength and light yoke – but I have not. I have managed. I have, for the most part, carried it on my own. That’s not to say I haven’t royally screwed up over the past four years of parenting. I’ve had some days where I phoned it in, and many days I’ve regretted, but in the end I’ve been able to turn it around, to mom up, if you will.
O, but three children. Three children four and under, I have met my match. It has been the perfect storm that has created a flood I cannot resist. Lord willing, the waves will move me down shore or up shore or wherever it is that I really should have been all this time while I’ve been standing here firm of my own resolve.
Babies have quite a way needing, don’t they? And always with the urgency and importance; my needs pale in comparison.
Babies have quite a way of revealing how selfish we are, don’t they?
While I can see that place down shore where this flood will take me, while I see the Promised Land in my mind’s eye and I can know that is where I am heading, it’s still a flood. I am entering the desert in order to get there. I am leaving in order to cleave to my Jesus. I am being burned to ashes to be made beautiful. I am dying to be resurrected. And I don’t want to.
I like my selfishness unrefined, thankyouverymuch.
I don’t want that desert or these sleepless nights. I don’t want to leave or be distanced from my husband in the busyness of the infant stage. I don’t want to burn to ashes or have another human being dependent on my body for years. I don’t want to die to my own self-sufficiency. All of these things are very real and loom very dark. They look like suffering. From here the Promised Land looks very, very faint in the distance.
So I have to believe. Lord, help my unbelief. I have to believe that He is faithful. I have to believe that His ways are better. I have to believe that He is enough because Lord knows I am not. I have to believe that His power is available to me. Lord, help my unbelief. I have to believe that He is making all things new and that I will look back on this very difficult time, this flood when I had three babies four and under, and I will say, “Behold, He has done a good thing,” and “Jehovah Jireh, my provider!”
Lord, help my unbelief. Lord, be my daily bread. Lord, carry me to where you want me to be. I’ll but float.