rest at the feet of jesus
Rest at the feet of Jesus.
Be still and know that he is God.
This is what my journey in motherhood needs most at the moment.
Sometimes a lot of my impatience and frustration comes from being in a rush, but why? I have a 5-year-old, 3-year-old, and 8-month-old.
Where are we rushing to?
The park on time?
Dinner on time?
Bed on time?
What does "on time" even mean
when it's just the four of us
with no other obligation
than to enjoy each other,
None of these are as important as I think they are. I always have to remind myself that God will meet me where I am. He meets all of us exactly where we are. He doesn't ask us to take a step further in order to help us, love us, guide us, or comfort us. He is already there. He is already beside me, and my comfort is in knowing I'm not doing this mom thing alone.
I couldn't do it alone.
Sometimes I feel like I am, but I have to remember this struggle is inward. It's my choice. He's not asking me to be perfect, and I know this.
He desires me to slow down. It's not truth, this idea that I have to rush. That I have to meet some unrealistic expectation of what makes a good mother.
A lot of times when I'm falling asleep, I'll get this idea, out of the brink of slumber, and it'll wake me up with a jolt.
Last night it was this:
I always pray, "God, help me be the mother I want to be." But then I realized I've been doing it wrong. I should be praying, "God help me be the mother you want me to be."
Does God care if dinner is on the table at 5:30?
Does he care if I forgot to clip River's nails before church?
Does he care if I don't have the energy to read 3 books before bedtime?
Does he care if there is playdough ground into my kitchen floor?
Does he care if dinner doesn't taste that great?
Where did my perception of what would make me the "perfect mother" even come from? If all of these things aren't important to him, then what is? If being this kind of mother (the perfect one in my head) isn't realistic because of the person I am, the character I was born with, and my inability to be organized, then what is the perfect mother?
Obviously, and with a chuckle, I admit there is none. Right? I'm pretty sure we all know this.
This is where it occurs to me that he will meet me where I am.
He calls me to be patient, loving, kind, and respectful. To use a gentle word when I want to scream. To hold and comfort, rather than yell and belittle. To teach instead of punish.
That is the kind of mother he wants me to be, and that is the kind of mother I can be because even though it feels heavy, his yoke is easy and his burden is light. And I'm not in this alone. I'll never be perfect, but half the fight is with myself. All this rushing, this strive for perfection, it's pointless. If I surrender to his peace, I'll be a lot closer to the kind of mother he's called me to be. And he's not asking me to do this alone, He is with me, and he simply wants me to rest at his feet.