While here in Uganda, Derek and I aren’t in control of what we eat, where we sleep, and have to request a driver if we want to go somewhere. To lack control when we desperately want to see movement in our circumstances sometimes makes us want to poke our eyes out with dull forks, but since blindness isn’t on my short list of things to do we are left with trusting Jesus. We were never promised to have control over our lives and we think we are some big shot on the playground when we think we have it. With little control of my situation and becoming a new mom I am quickly identifying middle school anxieties rearing their ugly head. For the first time in 15 years I care what people might think of my children and I. Disregard that our family boasts a variety of skin tones, I don’t mind that. I’m talking about how your child screams and scratches at his face in the grocery store for close to an hour because the other blessed child has more of your attention. Gawkers look at you like you’re Hitler, that’s the crap I’m talking about. I’m clearly out of control.
Most of my girlfriends have kids and they talk about mommy guilt, mommy shame, and other mommy feelings. I used to look at them with a smile and nod my head as they rehashed their stories, secretly praying God would give me robots dressed as children so I would never be able to identify with them. That prayer wasn’t answered and my kids are just as sinful and crazed for evil as planned. My husband who has always said he wanted five kids is now talking about how he is fine with just a few of his own and happy to have spiritual sons and daughters in the faith.
My only antidote to this new found season is prayer. Jesus never asked me to be perfect but to take everything to him in prayer. My prayers have been so messy, desperate, and raw that I think He likes it more than usual. I am reading through the scriptures and meditating on my findings with fervor similar to that I had when I was thirteen and first discovered just how glorious and supreme Jesus was. With every passing prayer I exercise my new mommy muscles through the scope of scripture and understand that I am to be like the Redeemer, Grace Giver, Comforter, and Forgiver of Sins.
I’m learning to accept that my children will lack reason and logic, be defiant because it feels right, beat the crap of out each other simply because they are boys (this has already started), and embarrass me. I won’t be perfect in shepherding their sweet minds and souls. My ideal expectations will be replaced with reality. Bring it. I’m ready. I’m ready for a crazy, hilarious, head-shaking, jaw dropping, out of control season.
“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, Yes, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10 NKJV
Disclaimer: I fully expected it to be crazy but like so many say, no book or pep talk can prepare you for how bananas motherhood can be.