It wasn’t long before motherhood disenchanted me. It started with my daughter’s birth, pushing for four hours that felt like four years with a baby stuck on my pelvis and a failed epidural.
This story was not what I wanted. When I dreamed of labor, there was peace and purpose and celebration.
In that cold hospital room, there was no fanfare or immediate maternal instinct or mystical strength that kicked in and covered my gaps. And, I had a LOT of gaps that October day.
I never expected a fight for your life moment. What got me through was a worship playlist that I begged my husband to keep turning up, louder, louder, louder. The soundtrack of that moment was “You Make me Brave” by Bethel Music and the throaty, gutteral cries of a terrified new young mom. It was so. hard.
Those next few months continued to expose my cracks. Hours of her screaming non-stop from colic and acid reflux. Seven lactation consultant appointments in the first two, sleepless, weeks. The pit in my stomach when we switched to formula and I felt like the worst mom ever. The tension rising in my home and the resentment rising inside of me.
The feel-good, perfect ideals I wanted were doused in spit up. What I used to be able to sweep under the rug, motherhood began to shake out and into the air like dust in the sunlight.
I fought it as hard as I could, desperate for some feeling of control. Could I just be enough one time? Could it just go right for once? I need to be better, do better.
It’s taken me a long time to see the purpose in this, the reason WHY I can’t be enough for her, for me, for God. Why it doesn’t always go right. Why those moments, the moments of fight-for-your-life and overwhelming frustration actually bring God glory.
If we were enough on our own, we wouldn’t need him. If I had a peaceful labor, would I have cried out in worship and surrender? If the nights were silent, would I have been awake, praying over my newborn? If we hadn’t fought, would I have had the opportunity to reconcile and forgive?
I see Gods mercies littered throughout my inconveniences, moments where I wasn’t enough allowed space for God to be.
I can’t help but think of Mary in the gospel Luke. He quickly starts their story, a swollen and 9 months pregnant riding on a donkey for days. We don’t get all the gory details of her labor, but I can assume the journey was far from perfect because they were human (and because ITS LABOR!).
This was a perfectly flawed journey that would end in her contracting in a dirty stable with NO epidural or clingy hospital socks in sight. The soundtrack of that moment was the rejoicing of angels, the bleating of sheep, and the throaty, gutteral cries of a new young mom that was likely terrified. I can imagine that it was a day much harder than my own. And surely she was surprised by the less-than-ideal circumstances surrounding the labor that would birth the Son of God. But God wasn’t.
In those moments of unmet expectations came big God glory. Prophecies were fulfilled, angels rejoiced, God was glorified, and our lives were redeemed
What God did despite of, and because of, Mary’s unmet expectations and imperfect actions should be a lip balm on our chapped mama souls.
It’s freeing to know that through our unmet expectations can also come glory. In fact, those moments where we have gaps are where God can step in and be most glorified. Our lack makes way for his abundance, our doubt leaves room for faith, and our mistakes make us desperate for grace.
There is freedom in remembering that even if you blow it, God can use it.
And, if your nights don’t seem as silent as expected, neither were Mary’s.
The apology you give after losing it on your toddler who threw alll their food off their plate (AGAIN!) teaches
Forgiving your spouse not only reconciles you to them, but points to the forgiver and reconciler of my own soul.
The gaps give space for us to glorify God through forgiveness, faith, or growing more like Him. Even if you blow it, God can use it.
Remember, if your nights don’t seem silent, neither were Mary’s.
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