Let Go

 "I think I used to confuse faith with my longing for control, particularly of outcomes."

Somewhere around when that first picture was taken, I didn't think we were going to make it.

I didn't think *I* was going to make it.

My whole life I'd wanted to be someone's mom. And I was.

It was not the life I'd always wanted in reality.

We had two kids, 2 and 4. I was keeping two other kids, also 2 and 4. Sweet Daddy was in graduate school and between working full time, coaching and school, he was rarely here.

I felt utterly lost and consistently overwhelmed. Alone.

I dragged us to all kinds of mom groups, church events, kid play places. Craving something. To find me.

I had become lost in motherhood. My entire identity was tied up in them. And let's face it, during that stage "them" was about eating, pottying, making messes and challenging me.

I never found what I was looking for. Instead we became busy and distracted by the world's definition of motherhood.

In hindsight, I realize a few things.

I went into motherhood always having been fairly succesful at anything I had done. (well, there was that high school PE class I nearly failed). I was good at the game of life prior to that - a good employee, a good student, a good friend.

The measurement bar in parenthood is a weird thing. I don't think you ever really feel good at it because the rules are always changing. New stages, new phases, new seasons. New rules.

I was a control freak.

I went into parenthood with my fists clinched tight, holding it all. I'd read the books. I knew what I was doing.

I think I went into my faith the same way.

This set of rules, I was pretty good at. Be baptized, do unto others, don't violate the biggies, go to church. I felt pretty succesful at the Christian thing.

At some point, both in parenting and my faith, I was shaken so violently that my fists opened up.

I let go.

I came to a point where my palms are open.

In parenthood, I'll confess - that hard fought battle took me until that second picture. Until Peanut was born.

From the moment she was conceived, I felt this very "yes, Lord, palms open" feeling. I've been shook violently since then. Over and over. But I've not fallen.

I've found that the real challenge in faith is that it's not about us chasing God.

It's about us agreeing to be found.

Sitting palms up, be still, know.

I sit with a cup of tea, in the quiet of my house this morning, reflecting on my motherhood journey.

I did the best I could, at the time, with what I knew.

I've learned that in both my parenting and my faith, it's not about the set of rules or the world's guidelines.

It's about my relationships. With those 3 kids.With my Jesus.

I made MANY mistakes. There were entire seasons where I today would not recognize myself in the mirror.

But that Mama in the first picture is no less worthy of grace and redemption than the one in the second.

Mama Warriors, as you wake today, and spend your day busy mothering (or perhaps you were smart and asked for a day off), I challenge you to honor your journey.

Motherhood changes you. Shakes you violently.

All He asks is that we sit, palms up, let go of control, and agree to be found.

There is no mighty list of the pre-reqs for God. You don't have to already know what you're doing. You don't have to be "good" at anything.

You are valued, seen, heard and worthy.

You can let go.

(Written May 2019)