In a Facebook, Twitter, Instagram culture, everything has been turned into a competition of who can have the most put-together life. For moms, this means who can have cleanest house, the most talented, smart kids, and who make the coolest treats that embody the spirit of the season (oh and they should also exhibit an obvious mastery of artistry and culinary excellence). All this while you remain in photo-ready mode in case you need to snap a selfie.
This week, Christ has called me to let all the irrational expectations I put on myself die. He’s called me to dig a hole and swiftly kick the mom guilt, the measuring sticks, and the fear of failure into the trench and to rise in the hope He has for my life and the lives of those entrusted to my care.
He’s been telling me to let my idea of what it is to be a perfect woman, wife and mom die, so that He can call reveal a truth that I’ve always known, but so often forget.
And He’s been doing this in a way that that has been very hard and emotionally fused.
You see, I’m expecting my 13th baby (not including my 5 heavenly children), and for the past couple of mornings, I’ve been spotting. I’ve been blessed to detect a little heartbeat, but for someone who has a history of miscarriages, it is all very unsettling. Because of it, I’ve been having to slow down and spend some extra time in bed.
It means that my house would now spark joy for Marie Kondo, who loves mess. It means a looming and impending laundry-ageddon. It means that I’m wincing every few minutes as my kids battle it out in the distance. It means that all the things that I’ve often felt define a good wife and mother, faithful in her Vocation, are falling to the wayside.
In spite of the frustration of this state, I’m seeing the blessings. I can’t do for everyone, that which I usually do, but I’ve been having a ton of little visitors, who in the absence of busyness and competition for my attention, are enjoying the act of just being with me. We’ve been wasting time together, cuddling, and talking... well, they do most of the talking.
In these moments, absent of a ton of activities and efforts to over-embellish their lives, Christ is revealing a truth that has infused me with greater life. You are enough. Your presence: your being. You.
Yes, when I rise from the bed, I’ll have some major cleaning and laundry to do (with the kids help), but I want to keep the truth spoken in the state of (forced) surrender. You and I, dear fellow daughter of God, are enough.
And just as we relish those awesome moments when we can simply spend time being in the presence of God, know that He is calling us to know the worth of our presence in the lives of our friends and family.
Written April 2019
Update: Baby #13 now 23 weeks and doing well!