It’s Hard to Be the Fun Mom

We all know it’s not fair to compare, but somehow, I still end up watching a youtube video where the pregnant mother of two two and under has vlogged her day making multiple batches of cookies, going to the library for toddler story hour, making an amazing healthy dinner for her family, going to the playground, helping her toddler do a seasonal craft, and probably 5000 other fun productive things that I selectively forgot since watching the video and feeling terrible about my mothering skills. I know it’s not fair to compare, but any time I see women posting on facebook about their sour dough bread baking and all the books they’ve read and all the great things they’ve gotten to do with their kids, I come away feeling like my aims for just getting through the day without anyone starving or majorly hurting themselves were so low they didn’t even come close to hitting the bottom of the target, let alone coming anywhere near the bullseye. 

There are seasons I’ve wondered how anyone even gets their laundry done in a week and feeds their family without resorting to fish fingers. There are seasons where I have felt like getting out to the library for toddler story hour might as well have been taking a trip to Australia solo with two children in toe. But I’m realizing now, there are also weeks like this, when, I still don’t feel like the fun mom, but if I posted the highlights on social media, someone might think I am. We took our kids to the cafe, I brought them out shopping for a baby shower and then brought one of my children to said baby shower, we made three batches of cookies, including one decorated for Vallentine’s Day, visited a friend’s house for pancake Tuesday, had multiple beautiful walks in the sunshine, enjoyed visits from multiple family members and friends, and read a TON of books. 

Okay, so maybe not the fun mom, but not the totally disorganized boring mom either, which is normally the title I would most identify with. But these ARE just the highlights. I wouldn’t post about the times I rushed around throwing laundry into drawers while my husband spent the last 10 minutes before work with the kids. I didn’t mention the what felt like hundreds of nappy changes and potty training accidents. I didn’t bother noting the mornings I woke so tired I could hardly stand, stumbling out to fetch my screaming toddler and baby and blearily readying them for the day before willing my hands to spread cream cheese on a bagel for my daughters breakfast. I certainly didn’t tell you about the afternoon I continued feeling so exhausted that I collapsed on the couch during nap-time, only to have to retrieve my toddler 20 minutes later to snuggle with me on the couch for another 20 minutes or so, until she just wouldn’t tolerate it anymore. And while some nights I served a hot and healthy balanced meal to my family at the proper time, other nights I scrambled to throw a few frozen veggies in a pan and heat up some frozen potato halves to go with our leftover roast chicken, which we did not eat until after bedtime. 

Mom guilt is a real thing, and not always a bad thing. I think there are lots of things I can improve on in my mothering and home making. Sometimes my negative feelings surrounding the state of my home or the quality of the time I spent with my children are warranted. Sometimes, I do need to step back and repent of laziness, or lack of discipline, or selfishness, or whatever it is that seems to be the issue, but I also must recognize that the Lord is gracious, and the efforts I am making to grow as a wife, mother, and home maker are not unnoticed. The Lord knows how I need to grow, and he knows that my desire to improve in my role is a genuine one, and he is listening to my prayers. 

Comparing myself to social media moms so often ends in pure discouragement, and the temptation to wallow in self-pity and despair is strong, but there is no need. “No need?!” you say. “But you don’t know how much I’ve struggled! You don’t know how hard it’s been. You don’t know how many times I’ve tried and failed to be the mom I want to be.” And maybe I don’t. But God does, and he tells us that he listens to our prayers. 

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, through prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God, and the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” (Phil 4:6-7).

I have lately been very convicted about my prayer habits. In praying more often, I have been astonished to see the Lord answering prayers, weeks, days, or even sometimes hours or minutes later. And I have been so powerfully reminded that my father cares for me, and wants to help me. 

Tired mama, lonely mama, anxious mama, grieving mama, impatient mama, frustrated mama, you are not without hope. Christ is with us. He knows our struggles, and he knows our need, and HE alone has the power to rescue us from our sin, and change us from the inside out to be better, kinder, more cheerful, more energetic, more organized, more patient mothers. Looking to social media can bring on the mom guilt, or sometimes it might give us something to aim for, some ideas we’d like to incorporate into our daily routine, but that’s not where we will get the help we need to grow. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth. 

Let us not grow weary in doing good, but rather, let us cast ourselves upon the abundant grace and mercy of God, telling Jesus about our struggles and hopes just as we would an earthly friend. You will find that the gentle nudge of our kind shepherd will lead you faithfully to will and to act according to his purposes. He loves you, mama, and knows exactly what you need. Trust him to be the one who will provide it.

A Dwelling Place for Eternal Beings: Learning About Contentment in a Season of Searching

They say moving is one of the most stressful life events you can experience. I always thought that was because of the effort of physically dragging all your belongings from one place to another, and then finding yourself in a place where you may not have the same social circle you are used to and feel out of place and disorganized. Having actually moved several times since then,, though, I personally think the hardest thing about moving is all the stuff that happens before you actually start packing, that is, the house hunt. 

We’ve been on the house hunt for half a year now. I’ve found it incredibly challenging for a couple of reasons. I suppose there are the obvious difficulties, of identifying houses that fit your criteria, establishing that they are available and within your budget, visiting them, and potentially making an offer, but then there is the emotional element.

Every house we visit that seems viable, I start imagining. I envision our baby growing up there. I think about the things we might change, the furniture or decorations we might use, what we might do with the garden or shed, the opportunities we might have there to be a blessing to our church family or neighbors through hospitality. With each house, a new set of dreams is born, and each time we have to move on from that house, for one reason or another, those dreams have to die. 

As those dreams come and go, I find that I struggle more and more with contentment in our current situation. I visit a house and see that we could have a kitchen table, a bathtub, a garden, a sitting room big enough to have company, room for our daughter to crawl and toddle safely, storage (blessed, blessed storage space), etc, and naturally I am reminded that we don’t have those things right now, and it could be a while until we do. The emotions rise then, frustration, fear, doubt, and I have to reevaluate. What is really important here? Is it the convenience of a kitchen table, or the luxury of a bathtub, or is it something else? 

“Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need.” (Phil 4:11-12).

My husband works weekdays from our sitting room, which means my dog, my daughter, and I spend our days in our bedroom and postage stamp kitchen. Baby plays with her toys on the bed, or, if I have cooking or cleaning to do, she sits in her bouncer or plays on her mat (which covers pretty much our entire kitchen floor hahaha), and I scoot awkwardly around her to do my chores. It’s times like these that I think, man, it would be great to not have to trip over my baby in order to do my laundry.”

“Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.” (Psalm 139:16, ESV)

It was in one of these moments that the Lord stopped me in my tracks. I listened to my baby cooing as I stepped carefully around her on her mat, and was tempted as usual to dwell resentfully on the lack of space, but instead all I could think about was her. Suddenly I saw her, not just as my sweet little baby, but as an eternal soul. Her days were already laid out for her by the all-powerful God that made her, days that I was living with her even now. God planned that she should be playing on her mat in our tiny old apartment, and that I should be singing to her while I shuffled around her to do dishes and fold clothes. God planned that I should be her mother, and my husband her father, and my dog her canine pal. God planned that we should raise her up to know and love him, to teach her his ways, and God willing to prepare her for an eternity spent worshipping him in glorious daily activity in the new Heaven and new Earth. 

In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.” (1 John 4:9-10)

Joy filled my heart at that thought. I didn’t have to have a kitchen table to teach my little girl about Jesus, or to model his love to her every day. I didn’t need a bath tub to tell her what it means to be a sinner in need of forgiveness, or to share the Good News that Jesus took the wrath that we deserved and that we may have everlasting life in him.

“In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?” (John 14:2)

When I think about our apartment in the context of worldly standards, it is just a drafty, old matchbox, but when viewed in the context of eternity, it becomes a sanctum of holy joys, a place where God can be served and praised and delighted in, a place that may not be suited to comfortable dining, or entertaining any number of guests, but that is perfectly suited to entertaining the Holy Spirit, and all the work he has for us here and now as he intended from eternity past. I still look forward to moving, and I think we will still struggle from time to time with contentment regarding our housing, but I pray that every time my thoughts stray toward dissatisfaction, God would remind me once again of the incredible blessing it is to have his sovereign hand at work in our lives. Now is not a wasted season spent searching for a home while we are trapped in a cold and inconvenient living space. Now is a season that God has planned to prepare myself, my husband, and my baby for an eternity spent in the house of our Father. There is no house hunt more important than the one that ends there.

Are We Holy, or Just HOLEy?

Philippians 4:11-12

Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need.

I had a lovely, long conversation with my wonderful hostess yesterday about satisfaction, and how we can only find true fulfillment in Christ.  We, as human beings, are like a puzzle, or a ragged patchwork quilt, full of wholes–they are wants, fears, hopes, missing loved ones, etc–but there is one whole that is much larger and much differently shaped than any of the others, that can be filldd only by God himself.  Are you filling your God-shaped hole with God?  Take a moment to consider, are you Holy, or HOLEy?