There are certain responsibilities in my adult life that I have discovered are more difficult than I imagined them as a child.
Cooking is an example of one of those duties. Early on there was a real struggle when it came to cooking, and mostly because, well, I didn’t know how. Our first night at home as a married couple, I went into panic mode realizing that one of us was going to have to cook dinner. So, I called my grandma.
She told me about some kind of loaded baked potato recipe that included a” basic” white sauce, and it was definitely basic(ly) a disaster. I mixed up the measurements for the butter and flour, making a pretty great paper-mache paste, and I cooked the baked the potatoes for what seemed a very reasonable fifteen minutes. So…I served my husband a rock-solid potato with paper-mache on top.
Awesome. Cooking just seemed a lot dreamier as a kid.
And so did mothering. It’s just a tougher job than I ever imagined. My youngest gave me a plant as a gift a while back, but she gave it reluctantly because I wouldn’t let her go swimming. Because there were no pools open yet. She declared that she really didn’t want to give me the plant because I’ve made her the “most bored child…ever. In all the earth.”
I offered arts and crafts, which brought some cheer to her utter desperation, until I suggested her art should be done on a particular table. And then the despair returned with full force because….
I can’t fit all of my brushes on THAT table!!
I can’t even do good work on THAT table!!
THAT table just makes me feel hot!
Duh.
And that’s when I pulled out every hair on my head. And that’s also when I threw my daughter’s crafts into a trash bag. And that’s just about the time I gave back the plant she gave me.
I gave back the plant my child gifted to me.
A sense of defeat washed over me as I sat feeling paralyzed by my daughter’s attitude and my own inadequacies. The baked potato contributed to a kind of depletion of the soul, but that was just a potato. This is my child. This is a soul whom I have been given the responsibility of raising and nurturing into adulthood.
And I gave back the plant she gave me.
It didn’t take long for my daughter to come out of her room, and she quietly sat next to me while the tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Mom, you know that plant you gave back?”
Um, yes.
Her tears strengthened and with her head in her hands she said, “I just cut it up. And now I don’t even have a present for you and I can’t even paint something because of that table!”
Oh, for the love of that table.
The end result of cut up plant looked about how I was feeling internally. And it certainly wasn’t the first time I felt this way. During my ongoing parenting journey, I’ve tested the waters of several false precepts when it comes to raising kids, and each time I get sucked into their deception, I am left feeling discouraged and weary. But there are three truths I’m reminded of in Ephesians that bring restoration and joy:
I’m not able without Jesus.
As parents, if we ever get to the point of thinking we have succeeded, then raising our kids becomes about our own abilities rather than a total reliance on Jesus. I am not able. I gave back my kid’s present, for heaven’s sake. But He is able.
“Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us…” Ephesians 3:20
He is able to do abundantly….infinitely…more than we can imagine. Sometimes I forget to ask, or I plead with timid expectation. But He is able. And not only when we’re weak and defeated, but He is able on the easier parenting days. He is able when we’re exhausted. He is able when our kids stray. He is able when, well, teenagers. He is able always and forever. While there are many days filled with joy and bliss as parents, there are also days of merely trudging along. But these days are the most beautiful because the trudging days are a precious reminder that we are not able.
But He is.
I am not in control.
It’s easy to doubt this reality. It’s nice to believe that I can create an environment that keeps my kids free from emotional and physical pain, but I simply can’t.
But the God who is able to do more than we ASK and who is able to do more than we THINK, is in perfect control.
Instead of trying to control what’s “out there,” instead of overly concerning ourselves with what could or might happen if we loosen the grip, should we not instead pour our energies into our own spiritual vitality and the hearts of those God has placed in our care? If only I would put as much energy and passion into the spiritual life of my children, praying fervently to the God who is able to draw my kids closer to Himself, as I do obsessing over the kinds of food my kids should or shouldn’t be eating.
God gave us the power of His spirit to fill us, to convict us, to seek forgiveness (even from our children), and to make us better followers of Jesus. Seek not what you can’t control, but seek after the peace that comes in relenting to the God who created our children and loves them abundantly more than we do.
Comparing myself to others is futile.
But I’m really good at it. And slowly (but surely) my sideways glances have unintentionally moved the proverbial bar higher and higher. The standard I’ve set for myself as a mom has been set so high now that it’s virtually unattainable, and so I feel nothing but frustration when I’m not as creative as other moms (or use the wrong tables to inspire creativity), when I work too much or not enough, or when I’m not great at make-believe.
And sometimes I see sweet, loving brothers and sisters hugging on each other in social media pictures, and so I try to capture a sweet, loving moment and instead get this:
And then I tell myself I’ve failed. Because the standard I’ve set is that my children should be looking like the pictures of all the other children. Who are always happy. And who never fight. Ever.
Setting my own standard is exhausting. Which is exactly why we’re not supposed to live this way. The verse in Ephesians continues on saying:
“…to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.”
Our actions as parents, our decision, our routines, should all be done for the purpose of bringing glory to God, not for the purpose of making me feel better about myself or feel more competent than those around me. Our actions as parents should bring glory to God, the one to whom our children ultimately belong. Oh, the freedom and joy that is found in that standard. And by His grace, our kids will in turn seek to bring God glory in their own lives. And on it goes…from one generation to the next…forever and ever.
My youngest and I ran in a 5K last spring. Because of an injury, I ended up carrying my daughter through the race. But when she saw the finish line, she jumped off my back and shouted, “I got it from here, mom.” I’ll never forget those moments. It hurt along the way, but the pain was insignificant when I saw the joy on my daughter’s face as she sprinted through that finish line.
I’ll carry my kids as they grow with a strength that can only come from Jesus. I have no idea what challenges will be met along the way, I’ve already proved I’m not going to run it perfectly, and I’m pretty sure I won’t run it like the other moms around me, but I’ll work hard and do my best until the day they jump off and let me know: I’ve got it from here, mom.
And the Lord will lead them on.
