Look up, Momma…

Verse: 1 Corinthians 12:9-10 Song: Dear God by Cory Asbury

Written by Jessi Drost

February 2023

“How do you do it all?”

With a small chuckle “oh, one step at a time! Fake it till you make it, right?”

In reality I was deep breathing the whole way to bible study because two out of three kids were losing their minds the whole 30 minute drive, I locked myself out of the house, AND was late for the group I was to be leading… But we keep pressing on.

“I could never stay home all day with my kids. I’d go stir crazy! Do you even have a life?”

Smiling kindly, “yes, it sure isn’t easy, but I’m grateful to be the one home raising them!”

You think this was my dream during all those long study sessions and cooking classes? I received two degrees in nutrition to watch my one year old throw half of what I make on the floor. To think I used to express the importance of eating mindfully. Sitting down, distraction free, enjoying the flavors of each food as you savor a nice peaceful meal… What would my 23 year old self say say now as I scarf down the crust of another PB&J and live off of smoothies and cheese cubes as their is no guarantee I’ll get a chance to eat a meal in one sitting… But we keep pressing on.

“You’re going to homeschool your kids? Good for you, I don’t have the patience to do that, no way!”

Laughing, “oh yeah, we’re really excited and passionate about it!”

Me, patient?? If only you could see the hours spent pouring over which curriculum to choose. If only you could see the doubt running through my mind everyday; the fear that I’m not smart enough to do this… But we keep pressing on.

“You’re pregnant again? Don’t you know how that happens??”

Biting back the snide comments… “Yes thank you, I do know how this happens. Children are a blessing from the Lord, and clearly we are blessed!”

Do you think it’s easy on a woman’s body to carry and birth these precious little babies? Do you honestly think when we look in the mirror we don’t have moments of despair? The stretch marks, the loose skin, the bags under our eyes, the hair loss. Whose body is this? It certainly doesn’t feel like mine… But we keep pressing on.

“Who’s watching the kids so you could get to go to the grocery store alone? How nice that you get this time to yourself!”

“Oh, they’re at home with my husband.”

“Wow, what a great Dad for watching them for you!”

Smiling with gritted teeth, “yes, he is a very involved husband and father, we are so lucky to have him!”

Uhhh.. I’m sorry, what? He is their FATHER… the other half to the equation that created them. He wants to spend time with his children, he should spend time with his children! This is considered time to myself?.. But we keep pressing on.

………

The boys are playing nicely together in the play room. Emery, bless her little newborn heart, is finally napping without me having to hold her, and I get to enjoy a moment of solitude as I do the dishes in peace.

As these recently spoken narratives play in my head, I feel the anger and anxiety coming on.

The dishes are done, now to get the boys settled for nap time and quiet time. The precious hour a day I get to myself is so close!

I can already taste the bubbly kombucha coming my way as I mentally select the book I will read.

But one won’t fall asleep, one woke up needing Mommy snuggles to feel safe, and one doesn’t have it in him to play quietly for more than a few moments at a time. The kombucha goes back in the fridge, the book never leaves the shelf, and the forced smile returns.

Time to myself as a Mom with three 4 and under I’ve learned is a gift, but I still have days where I have to fight the selfishness from rising up.

As I stand at the counter, the narratives from recent weeks continue…

“How can you homeschool as a Christian? We need lights in the public schools! It’s selfish to only think of your own family!”

“How could you ever consider sending your child to public schools as a Christian?! You’re setting your kids up for sin!!”

“You’re too loud! Do you ever stop talking?!”

“Why aren’t you taking part in the conversation? It’s rude to sit here and not talk. You think you’re too good for us!”

“You’re too controlling. Be more flexible!”

“Why aren’t you more organized? Have you heard of a schedule?”

“You deserve time for yourself. Live a little! Have some fun!”

“Why are you taking time for yourself to rest? How selfish; you have kids! You don’t get time for yourself!”

“So, when are you having the next one??..”

“You can’t even handle the two you have, why would you have more?!”

“Isn’t motherhood so hard? You always seem so on top of everything.. be real with us…”

“How dare you say motherhood is hard! There are women our there who would kill to have what you have! Who are you to complain?”

“Be vulnerable, share your struggles! That’s why God has us go through tough times.”

“You call yourself a Christian?? Christians don’t struggle with anxiety!”

The anger, the anxiety, the despair.

Will I ever be enough for these people? Will they ever see the good in me? Can’t they see I’m trying my best! Can’t they see the pain, the struggle, the sacrifice? Why can’t I get what they say out of my head Lord?? I know what they think shouldn’t matter, but why does it still hurt?

Deep breaths, in and out. So much stimulation. Someone is always crying. Someone is always needing me. The judgements keep playing in my head. I can feel my body shaking!

“Ahhh I can’t do this God! Help me!!”

The wave of peace hits…

“You’re right, you can’t do this. You aren’t strong enough… you aren’t meant to be. That’s why you have me.”

That’s the voice, the only voice that matters. The voice of God.

I look up and see the fruits of the spirit verse over the kitchen sink.. I am none of those things. None of those things without Christ that is.

I smile for real as the narratives leave my mind, and are instead replaced with God’s truths…

In Him I am good enough. He sees me. He created me. He knows my heart. He loves me. That’s all that matters.

Let them talk. Let them think and say what they want. Let them judge me for my struggles. God’s opinion of me is all that matters. I live for an audience of one.

With every tear dried, every sleepless night, every dirty diaper changed, every dish washed, and every crumb swept, he is sanctifying me. He is reminding me that I can’t do it alone, I’m not strong enough. I’m not meant to be.

It’s not my strength that prevails, it’s His. Where I am weak, He is strong.

I turn from the sink with a grateful heart, ready to take on the rest of the day. Thank you Lord for reminding me that in you my strength and purpose is found.

……..

Look up, Momma. He’s ready for you!

"My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness." So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. That's why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 
2 Corinthians 12:9-10