On cereal bowls and the grace of God

That's right, this morning's minor emotional crisis started with cereal bowls. Or rather, without cereal bowls. This morning's minor emotional crisis started when I realized that we had no clean bowls in our house in which to put our cereal. Let's see if I can break it down for you, and maybe you will think I am crazy (my usual self-interpretation) or maybe you will find something here to which you can relate.

To be clear, this is a confession of a particular struggle I've been having, especially since becoming a stay-at-home mom, and it's not intended as an indictment of anyone or anything except those ideas that so easily sneak in to try to distract me from the truth of the gospel. To give some context, though, lately I feel quite often that the world, at least the one in which I live, is simply not accommodating to motherhood. I feel like moms are the ones who take the hit for so many things, big and small, and everyone seems to know it's that way, but everyone seems okay with it. Even moms seem okay with taking the weight of the world on their shoulders, and when they fail, they seem to blame themselves and try harder to do better. As a Christian mom, there's even one more layer--I feel like we're the ones who are tempted to take on the weight on the world, but we've heard we're not supposed to do that, so we try to walk in the grace of God, accepting our failures and, if we're lucky, huddling together with other believers trying to encourage each other and help each other learn how to survive the day-in-day-out monotony of raising our children, loving our husbands, serving our churches, volunteering at our schools, managing our households, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. I am blessed to have a husband who sees what I see and does everything in his power to assuage some of the overwhelming burden, but he is often as angered by it as I am, if not more. And I don't believe many women have such a jewel of a spouse, even when their spouses are very loving, well-intentioned men. So, here are my recent thoughts and experiences related to that topic.

It really started yesterday at nap time (today's crisis, that is), when I decided to try very hard to post a well-articulated, not offensive, but perhaps assumption-challenging comment on a friend's Facebook wall regarding the interpretation of a Czeslaw Milosz quotation he had cited and to which several others had already responded. I had planned to take a catnap while the kids were sleeping, but the resulting discussion of my comment kept me busy until they woke up, and it also left me fearing I had perhaps offended when I merely meant to discuss ideas.

Or maybe it started when I drove back from South Carolina in 12 hours with two children to find my husband very sick, which lasted three days, followed by Will's 10 day sickness, which overlapped with my own 7 day sickness, during which Darren had a bit of a relapse but recovered quickly, before we all finally passed the bug on to Lily, who is still sick. And teething.

It goes without saying that during those three or four weeks, the house stayed fairly dirty, I hadn't been grocery shopping, and the laundry piled up--just in time for our washing machine to break with the landlord saying it will be another week (that makes two total) before it might be fixed. So our bedroom floor is covered in piles of dirty clothes, and I've already taken to washing things at friends' houses.

And I guess I could identify some other influencing factors, like the fact that Lily is still nursing and not only refuses to take a bottle of anything but breastmilk, but she also freaks out when Darren tries to feed her solid food while I'm in the room. She also cries the entire time if we leave her in the nursery at church, and she takes a long time to warm up to strangers, so finding babysitters is just plain difficult.

And I've been worrying, but trying to pray and trust God, about my relationship with Will, who is in many ways very particular about things, just like I can be, and who can often be very self-centered and demanding, to the point of acting helpless about things he can do for himself just to get my undivided attention, which is often hard to give right when he wants it. So we've been butting heads a good bit, but I'm trying to keep in mind that some of this is age-related, some is just plain disobedience, and some are areas where I really can work on being more compassionate and loving.

Also, I have finally given up on the idea of being able to participate in any community group through our church, partly because it's too difficult to make the times work with our kids' naps or Lily's bedtime. That came to a head last night when I spent the duration of community group in a dark room holding Lily while she slept on my shoulder. The most frustrating part is that no other moms come to the group because their husbands, who do come, are all in some kind of ministry, so their lives are pretty packed already with ministry-related things, I guess. And they participate in other small groups as a family, while this one is intended to be a prayer group for the new church our church is wanting to plant. The few times Lily has slept during our meeting time, I'm in a room of men with whom I don't feel I can truly open up because they have no frame of reference for the struggles that I might share. It seems like Darren and I are the only ones who come to the group as a family, and it just doesn't seem worth it to me anymore.

But all of that is just background for today, and miraculously, I think I had been doing okay with the encouragement of good friends and a loving husband. I had really been trying to find my identity in Christ rather than in my performance as a wife and mother.

But then the cereal bowls...

So as I frantically wash dishes, slice an apple for Lily, and make Darren's lunch from the sparse scraps of food we have left in our refrigerator, here's how the downward spiral goes in my head:

"If I hadn't spent all that time posting that Facebook comment yesterday, I could've been washing the dishes so we'd have something to eat off of this morning. Not that cereal is that great of a breakfast--who needs 210 calories of pure carbs to get them through until lunch? If I weren't so lazy, I'd get up in time to make something with protein for my family so we're not all starving by 10am. And I spend so much time thinking I can do this motherhood thing better than moms who burn the candle at both ends for years on end and end up bitter about it, when really I'm just making excuses for my own laziness. There's apparently no other way to actually make a family work without me being the first to get up in the morning and get everything done before everyone starts asking me for things that I should already have ready for them. But that would mean I'd have to go to bed early in order to get enough rest, which would mean I don't get quality time with Darren, which would hurt our marriage, so I guess I'd have to get up early and stay up later just like every other mom in the history of time has had to do. Forget rest, forget fixing my own breakfast or having five minutes to sit down and eat without someone demanding something from me. And why should I expect that? Why should I expect that I be able to sit at church rather than walk around with my crying baby like other moms often have to do? What makes me so special? I have been so arrogant to think I could do this any differently than any other mom. And maybe it's all part of the curse. But didn't Jesus die to set us free from the curse of sin and death? Did that not include moms? Does God even give a crap about moms? Is there ever an instance in the entire new testament where Jesus has anything to say to, or even about, moms? Why are we the ones who still have to bear the brunt of the curse?!?"

Pretty great stuff, huh? Thankfully, I was able to say all this to Darren, who was supposed to get to work early, but ended up getting there later because of my breakdown, and he patiently sympathized with me and talked me through the truth of the gospel again. And the best part was that he understood, not five minutes after saying all this and really meaning it, I felt stupid for thinking it. I felt silly. Cereal bowls, really? Wow, I have lost it for sure. But that was just pride trying to sneak in on top of everything else. I had doubted God, doubted his love for me, and I was embarrassed that Darren was there to see it. I was even more embarrassed because he handled the situation in such a loving way, while I struggle to be loving and compassionate when he has doubts of his own.

But, all that said, now I am glad that Darren was there. For one thing, it helped me get my head on straight and reminded me that I can't rely on my feelings to tell me who God is. They are so volatile that I need something outside myself to tell me what the truth is. Thank God for his Word! Also, I am glad he pointed out how naked I was feeling and how difficult it is to have your failures seen even by someone as close and loving as your spouse. It was that insight of his that made me want to share this further, in case anyone else feels what I so often feel and needs to know you're not alone in it.

Also, I'm reminded of a hymn that has been meaningful to me lately:

Father-like, He tends and spares us;
well our feeble faith He grows.
In His hand he gently bears us,
rescues us from all our foes.
Praise Him, praise Him,
praise Him, praise Him,
widely as His mercy goes.

God bless you moms out there. Please know that I am praying for those of you that I know, and feel free to pray for me, too!