Do you sometimes feel the urge to escape your role as a mother? I hate to admit that sometimes, I do. I fiercely love my children; they are the most precious people in the world to me. They are my everything. They bring me more happiness than I ever imagined possible, and I cherish our close bond in a way that words cannot express.
Yet my sinful nature rears its head so very often. It strongly rebels against their many needs and pulls back from their plethora of questions. They want to talk; I want quiet. They want to share; I want no interruptions. They want to follow me around, and I want autonomy.
With five homeschooling daughters, the talking never seems to cease.
“Stop,” “No,” “Go away”…these are phrases my sinful nature urges me to say throughout these long days. Especially now with an upcoming move giving more than its fair share of anxiety and problems, and a husband away working in another state. With no emotional or physical help outside of my children, I feel this struggle even more acutely than normal.
The higher the stress, the more I want time and space to myself. Basically, I want my kids to leave me alone.
And that means I have to battle my sinful nature even more than usual. And frankly, it’s exhausting. The weight of everything compounds, making these constant internal battles harder than ever. And if I give in to irritation, I feel even worse and have to ask for forgiveness.
This is not the way I want to feel. This is not how I want to be. I want my love for my children to show as easily and rightly as it ought—all the time. It should, because my love for them is so great. But it doesn’t always.
At night, I reflect on the day and wrestle with my actions—have I always been patient, kind, slow to anger, selfless? Have I made my children feel as valued as they are? Or have I put myself first at times and made my children feel like a burden instead of a gift?
My reflections always reveal some failing. I have snapped or been inwardly irritated. I have not listened attentively or given them the time they needed. In some way, I have always failed.
In motherhood, you are your own individual, sinful person, but you are also someone else’s world. You can barely keep your own head above water half the time, and yet you have a little one clinging to you in faith and trust. That little person adores you. They need you. You are their closest friend and dearest confidant, their safe place, and a helper to them in all things.
In a word, you are mom.
This wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t have your sinful nature to wrestle with. But because you do, you find something extremely distasteful about being needed and wanted for everything. You find yourself rearing back like a wild horse against a restraint.
I remember reading the passage in Matthew 14 where it says, “When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place. Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick.”[1]
This stood out to me as a mother. His response was so different from what I would expect in such a situation. Ok, let’s be honest: his response was so different from how I would have responded. He had been serving people constantly, giving his time daily to teach and minister to all their needs. He had listened to all their complaints. He had exhausted himself for them. He had done his duty. He had worked hard.
Then it’s his turn. He has a need. He receives terrible news that John the Baptist has been beheaded. He needs time alone to mourn and pray. It is a righteous desire. And he tries to go to a solitary place.
But what happens? The selfish, needy people follow him. And then they find him where he had gone to be alone. And yet his response! His response is not one of frustration or irritation, nor does he snap at them for interrupting his private time.
He is filled instead with compassion. He notices their needs and desires, and instead of explaining that his needs are more important right now or that they need to go away, he goes right back to serving them without resentment. He doesn’t call attention to his sacrifice. He doesn’t explain that surely by now he has done enough.
In a word, he is selfless.
He is how we ought to be.
He is how I want to be.
He is how you want to be, because your mother’s heart calls you to the same.
Dear sweet mother, you are not alone. As Christian moms, we are all battling against the same feelings and the same failings.
And the same Lord is working in all of us, extending his mercy and grace so that we can start each minute anew, and continue to parent our children towards His kingdom.
Going forward today, let us hold to this verse together:
“So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”[2]
[1] Matt 14:13-14
[2] Isaiah 41:10
