Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

joy

God ruined my life

It’s been no secret that lately I’ve been struggling with being a mom to my kids … feeling overwhelmed, underqualified, impatient, tired and exasperated. Then I had a wake-up call and my attitude has changed. The past week has been one of the best weeks with my kids (minus the tantrums my 2-year-old threw over the weekend at bedtime). This change of heart and mind was confirmed by the sermon I heard on Sunday.

I will admit that I cannot remember much about what our pastor said, but one phrase stuck out. I can’t remember the context, either. (Sorry, Pastor Dave. Saturday night was a rough one with Izzy.) But I recall hearing something about God invading our lives, and something in my mind clicked with that concept.

I remember exactly how God took over my life, when I let Him, but He began invading it long before then. He was wooing me from a young age, through my uncle, my grandparents and friends. I just didn’t get it until I was 19. Actually, I’m not sure I totally “get it” now, but I know one thing: I’m not the same as I was then.

God ruined my life. At least, the life I was living. I was depressed, insecure, desperate for love, on the verge of jumping into a sexually loose lifestyle and ignorant of who I was or  what I wanted out of life.

God changed all of that. He gave me joy, security, unfailing love, purity, acceptance, purpose and hope. He ruined the path I was on, and I am forever grateful.

In a similar way, my children have ruined my life. They, too, invaded my life and took over. In a whole new way, my life is not my own. They’ve ruined me for selfishness, laziness, monotony, greed, and independence. Without them in my life, I could do what I wanted, when I wanted, anytime I wanted. I could spend all the money I had on myself and be my own person. Those things are attractive, sometimes, and please don’t think I’m in any way condemning or judging you if you don’t have children. I just know myself and how I would be as a person if God hadn’t given me children.

Sometimes I’m frustrated that my schedule revolves around theirs, that I have to share whatever I’m eating or drinking with my daughter if I’m consuming it while she’s awake, that I can’t even go to the bathroom without her opening the door or calling out, “Mommy, where are you?” And, at times, I’m a little jealous that I have to buy the kids new clothes every few months while my tired wardrobe decays further in my closet. (Except for the new pieces I got for my birthday; thanks Mom and Grandma!)

I may not have known what I was in for when my husband and I decided to have children (at least the first one!) but I knew sacrifice would be involved. The same is true of my faith. In both cases, I can’t stay the same person I was or even do a lot of the things I used to do. Most of the time, that’s a good thing.

I like this song “Miracle” by Audio Adrenaline. The chorus says:

“You took my dreams
And stole my schemes
And turned my life upside down
You took my heart
Stole every part
And made it a miracle”

I wouldn’t trade this miraculous life for what it was before, but when I entertain the thought of going back, I have to remember that this was no hostile takeover of my life. With God and with my kids, I surrendered the ground I was holding and welcomed the invasion.

Call me Eeyore

I’m in a bit of a motherhood funk. After literally wrestling our 2-year-old to bed last night, and waking up at 3:30 a.m. for the teething baby, I’d like to chalk it up to being tired, but I’m not so sure. I find myself increasingly irritated, less patient and exhaling frequent heavy sighs. Sometimes, in public. Usually these attitudes I confine to the house, where only passersby or neighbors could hear me lose it with my kids. I almost always cry after it happens, upset with myself for growing so upset.

I can’t even totally pinpoint the problem. I told my husband this morning that part of it boils down to expectations. I have high hopes for the day — for what we can accomplish, for how I’m going to react, for how the kids are going to behave — and 15 minutes or less after we’re all up, those hopes are shot for the rest of day. I could lower my expectations, but that always feels a little bit defeatist, like I’m giving up on any chance of having a good day, but if it happens, then good for us.

It’s also a control issue. I have absolutely no control over my daughter, as evidenced by her repeatedly ignoring my requests to go throw away her juice box in the kitchen garbage. When my husband tells her the same thing, she obeys immediately. Thus, another sigh from me. I realize my attitude has gotten out of hand, though, because this morning, she yelled at me from her room, “Mommy, come here, right now!” When I didn’t respond immediately, she repeated her command. She must have gotten that from somewhere. I’ll confront the guilty party next time I see her in the mirror.

Babies are needy. I know this. I remember our daughter being that way, but I just didn’t think about what it would be like to have two children need you at the same time. And a teething baby is super needy. Thus, another sigh from me, and spiraling thoughts of negativity and hopelessness.

I know, as a Christian, I’m supposed to exhibit joy. But does that mean I have to plaster a smile on my face and keep my problems to myself? How do I show others I have joy when I feel trapped in a state of discontent, disappointment and discouragement. Sometimes I cringe when Christians are told they’re supposed to be joyful always because I think we take that and distort it and do the mask thing. Then we appear to have no problems and no one wants to talk us because they think our lives are perfect. Where the balance lies, I don’t know.

But I think of Naomi, the mother-in-law in the book of Ruth, who loses her husband and sons to death in a land that is not her home; who returns home with a daughter-in-law who wouldn’t leave her; and when greeted by her old friends says, “Call me Mara (meaning bitter), for the Lord has made life bitter for me.” (Ruth 1:20, NLT) That’s certainly not a testimony of God’s faithfulness. The story doesn’t end there, of course, and I know mine isn’t over either. But I appreciate the example of someone dealing with extreme emotion and expressing it to others.

The funk will pass. I feel better having written about it, as usual. Sometimes just airing it makes the weight of it lighter.

I love my kids. And I’m grateful to be able to take care of them. Someday they won’t need me as much, and maybe I’ll look back on these days with longing. Or maybe I’ll be able to live out these words of God:

“Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.

See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert
and streams in the wasteland.” (Isaiah 43:18-19)

That’s a word for me, now, too. A new thing. I can hardly wait.