I was pushing Bun’s stroller down the street, walking with a friend, when she asked me a great question: “What has God taught you since becoming a mom?”
OH, so many things. Recording them here while I have the time.
I need Jesus. All the time. More than I ever thought.
Motherhood is brutally humbling. It’s not about maxing out or reaching your capacity; it’s about falling on the ground with your capacity broken. It’s about crying out to the Lord that you can’t do it anymore, that you’re overwhelmed and you can’t do it. And He gives you your daily bread to keep going. He brings you through. He enables you to do it, one hour and sometimes even just one minute at a time to love and care for this precious little person He has brought into your life.
God loves us through His people.
When I was blearily stumbling through the early days and weeks and months of motherhood, the Church – the Body of Christ – was the literal hands and feet of the Lord to me. It was my mom sleeping in the spare room with me and Bun when I was in a dark place and couldn’t handle one more night of Baby not settling in her crib. It was my dad making me iced coffee in the morning and taking the baby so I could nap. It was my husband reassuring me over and over again that we were okay, that the baby was fine, that we were going to make it. It was my family praying over me, my friends checking in on me, the deaconesses and single friends from church and the pastor’s wife dropping off meals, my best friend watching Bun for two hours so I could go to a doctor’s appointment, my brother giving me bear hugs, my other brother playing guitar to soothe Bun. It was loads of wash and dishes and feeding me tater tot casserole while I nursed the baby and reading the breast pump instructions so I didn’t have to. It was my mother-in-law telling me it was okay to pass on sending Christmas presents, my mom suggesting we watch a movie while the baby laid in her floor bed and played, my friend stopping in to visit on her way home from something else. It was the Lord, loving me over and over again in tangible ways through His people.
The Lord’s mercy is infinite. Mind-blowing, earth-shatteringly, infinite.
In Micah 6, the prophet asks rhetorically, “What should I bring to the Lord? What does He require?” After all, He is the Lord of the universe. He is well within His rights to demand anything He wants from us. He determines how we ought to approach Him in worship. What pleases Him?
With what shall I come before the Lord
and bow down before the exalted God?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,
with calves a year old?
Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,
with ten thousand rivers of olive oil?
Shall I offer my firstborn for my transgression,
the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?
He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly[a] with your God.
It’s that line in verse 7 that is haunting me. God could demand I give Him my daughter, the fruit of my body, to pay for my sin. He could ask me to give her up because I am a sinner, endlessly guilty before the holy ruler of the universe.
Instead, God gave up His only child. He gave His son for me.
And now He blesses me with a child of my own who I do not deserve. His mercy is beautiful, infinite, rich and full and brimming with love.
More to come as this little one grows and I do too. Thank you, Jesus.
