When Motherhood is a Mess

Motherhood is messy, Lord.  My tears, they want to flow when I find the bathroom floor flooded with water, the doings of a curious toddler boy.  I am happy when I enter that room, but oh how quickly a smile can fade.  I don't cry, though.  I just get to work and try to keep my composure.  Water spraying from a joint in the toilet's hardware.  I am not sure if I should get the man of the house.

Can I handle this mess on my own? 

Towels.  Alot of towels. 

 And late nights.  Early mornings.  Broken toes and broken hearts.  Tears.

 And towels for tears.  A lot of towels.  The disaster cannot be cleaned up with a towel.

So many motherhood disasters cannot be cleaned up with a towel.  

I leave to inspect the level below.  The basement carpeted underneath the chaos above is not left unaffected.  It is soaked.  A mess.  A terrible horrible awful mess.  The electrical in the ceiling has shorted out.  Hot water is pouring from the ceiling as hot tears well in my eyes.  I sink down and give in to the tears this time.  What do I do now?

I cannot handle this mess on my own.

It is moments like this, Lord, that I can't do this motherhood thing.  It can leave a mess and leave me feeling like I am a mess.  I am tempted.  As the tears flow, I am tempted to start to feel sorry for myself, to feel frustrated and to say I just can't do this, I don't want to do this...but I stop myself.

What if I praised You in this moment?  In this crazy, awful, sopping wet moment, what if I pictured the beautiful, chubby little hand that twisted that knob on the toilet out of sheer curiousity?

And thanked you for that?

What if, as I soaked towels wet with carpet stained water, I allowed my mind to travel thousands of miles where a mother's son will sleep on a muddy dirt floor.  This is sobering.  My wet carpet still has the safe covering of a roof over it.

It is raining.  I can hear the rain and I picture it easily when I close my eyes, as I hear it fall.  My mischievous toddler son will sleep snuggled warm under his favorite blanket as the rains fall.  He has the peace that someone is taking care of the messes of life.

I can be thankful for that as I clean this mess.

What if I just thank you for the messy of motherhood?  What if I just right then say,

Lord, when I saw this mess I am in, I thought to wonder if I should call on the man of the house.  Can I handle this mess on my own?  Of course I can't.  Of course I cannot handle this mess.  I cannot handle any of it on my own. 

And this is how you want it.  These moments come to bring me outside of me and to reach out to you, the man of the house.  I know I cannot clean any of it up on my own.

I smile.  The mess is still there but I can smile now because I know who You are.  The great I Am.  The Man of this home.  It is all good and I am thankful for the opportunity to look outside of me and to be reminded of this truth.

For The Weary Mother

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These moments, they come rushing in.  That mommy moment when you feel like you cannot put another foot forward.  You are weary.  Spirit weary.  Mental weary.  Body weary.  So weary you are going to collapse from the weight of it all.

It takes so much, this life of giving.  You’re tired.  You need a place to safely fall.  Sometimes you need a pillow to cry into.  Maybe you need to cry.  Maybe you are too tired to cry.  Maybe you are grasping for any ounce of strength available just to make it to that moment when you can cry. 

If you are like me, you seek solitude in moments like this.  And if your life is anything like mine, if you find solitude, they will find you.

The stocky little boy of four climbs on your back and giggles, peeking over into your face,

“I found you mommy!”

I am found.  I am lost.  So lost, but yet I am found.  Not just by a little boy with face smeared with chocolate.  But by someone who is greater than the weary soul face buried deep into a feathered pillow.

And You?

You are found there in your weariness, by the Spirit who helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. (Romans 8:26)

Does He care about the weary mother?  Is it too small a matter for Him?  Is not the God who created the Universe, who parted the Red Sea so His people could safely pass, the same God who says that He will gently lead those who are with young?

 He will feed His flock like a shepherd; He will gather the lambs with His arm and carry them in His bosom, and gently lead those who are with young.(Isaiah 40:11)

Me. 

You. 

He thinks about the mothers.

The ones who are trying to do this mother thing.  Struggling.  Succeeding.  “Failing”.  Holding to pride.  Saying our sorries. 

Trying.  Trying to learn humility. 

Crying in pillow moments.  Smiling laughing moments.  Yelling moments (inside or out).  Frustrated.  Calm.  Anxious.  Trusting.  Teaching moments.  Learning moments.  Hard on ourself moments.

Yes.  He sees it all.  And He cares so much that He intercedes for us when we cannot take one more step.  He knows!  And it is in this weakness, and through the knowing that the Savior cares, that we can lift our head.  Look up.  Reach out for His outstretched hand.  And with His strength, perfected in our weakness…..

Try again.