"As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; and you will be comforted over Jerusalem.” Isaiah 66:13
As I prepare to celebrate Mother's Day as a new mom, I can't help but reflect on all motherhood is... and isn't. I'm only ten months into this beautiful, hard season of life, and though I'm learning new things every day, one truth resounds louder than all the others:
Motherhood means more.
It's so much more than our Etsy and Pinterest-based society defines with vintage nursery decorations. It's more than Subaru's high-tech, modern car safety features to protect our little ones. It's more than I could ever box up or define by my limited understanding of language.
However, what I do know is that motherhood is realizing my ineptness, embracing how often I muster the frustrated humility to huff and puff: "I don't know," and "I can't fix this."
Motherhood is realizing, often begrudgingly, that God truly is in control of my little one's life—more so than any pediatrician or mom influencer's organic muffin recipe. It's trusting His protective hand to ward off RSV, car wrecks, or inappropriate kids shows far better than me. It's recognizing that both age-old remedies and newer psychology methods can be right... and wrong... Neither serves as the perfect answer for all of my child's physical, emotional, mental, and especially spiritual needs.
Motherhood, in my sweaty, soured-milk corner of the world, is the simple but painful act of accepting that my humanity simply can't love as perfectly as I want it to. It's a daily, albeit minute-by-minute, reckoning with my sinfulness in light of God's flawlessness. It's a true confession of "I can't, but You can."
And can I be honest?
I don't enjoy this confession. Many Christian big-wigs swear it's freeing to admit that you can't and accept that God can, but it eats at my desire to be everything for my son. I guess you can say that I wrestle with the same tug-of-war battle Eve did in the garden. She wanted to not only be like God (because she was already made in His image) but she wanted to be God, able to match His abilities as Creator and Sustainer. Yet her concept of playing God landed her an eternal price. And we are still paying for her mistake today as we repeat it, clawing after a status that was never meant for us.
If I allow myself to really think through all that comes with being God, I must admit that I would rather choose my fidgety, frustrated role as Imperfect Mom.
Being God and following in His identical footsteps would require me to relinquish my only son to a world of sinners who would abuse and trample his innocent heart. And as a woman who's willing to pounce on an innocent stranger for only trying to touch my child's chubby little hand, I can't say I would surrender him to a world of Barabases. I certainly wouldn't let him be nailed to a tree, beaten, and tortured by the world's vilest creatures.
So this reality leaves me with two choices as a mother: keep trying to be God... sacrificing beyond my desires, or allow God to be God... sacrificing my desire to be in control of it all.
I guess, in a way, surrendering control is freeing. But maybe it's not freeing because it's so exciting to not be able to keep your child in a safe, content bubble. Maybe it's freeing because it allows God to remind us that He is far more beautiful and loving than we actually could be or want to be as mere mortals.
Perhaps that's why motherhood means more. It makes me meager in the best of ways; it's a comfort, a cushion, that lets me operate within the confines of my humanity that won't understand perfection on this side of heaven.
Perhaps motherhood is letting God comfort us with the very maternal instinct He created, pointing us back to His matchless care for His children.
Let's pray:
Father, thank you for being the Creator, Protector, Redeemer, and Sustainer of fallen people, especially of us mamas who wrestle for your title, knowing full well we can't nor want the responsibilities your loving compassion entails. Hold me accountable in humility and remind me of your desperate, wild love for my child as I daily accept that "I don't know what I'm doing," and that "I can't fix it all." I'm grateful that, in my imperfection, You are present with grace and mercy. In your holy name, I pray, Amen.
Peyton Garland is an author and Tennessee farm mama sharing her heart on OCD, church trauma, and failed mom moments. Follow her on Instagram @peytonmgarland and check out her latest book, Tired, Hungry, & Kinda Faithful, to discover Jesus' hope in life's simplest moments.
Related Resource: Jesus Calling - Stories of Faith
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