Hazel is 89 days old. In these 89 days, I have managed to feel like superwoman half of the time and superfailwoman the rest of the time.
Through my tears, while dealing with the frustration and fear of adequately providing nourishment for my tongue-tied baby and at the same time figuring out what being a mother to two kids looks like, I have had two overarching thoughts:
I am not God.
-and-
God trusts me.
They seem to clash, those two thoughts, don’t they? If I were a perfect being, would I trust me? If I could laugh in my own face at such a ridiculous question, I would. NO. I would most certainly not trust me. I fail daily and in such absurd ways.
Yet, God does. He has trusted me with two precious souls- little humans who make this earth more vibrant with their every glance in my direction. Two sets of eyes who brighten at the sight of mine; two smiles who could not make happier the spirit of a free man who hasn’t seen the sun in a decade of years. These precious beings who are more valuable than gold, He trusts me with them. He has given them to me as gifts, for safe keeping.
Me. A flawed, impatient and easily-overwhelmed woman. I do not have within me, on my own strength, the ability to be a flawless mom; it seems as if the harder I try, the more apt I am to miss the Super Mother bull’s eye completely.
My best days are like dirty rags compared to His everlasting character. Perfection stooped down to deficiency. A king giving audience to a beggar.
Have I made my point clear? In comparison to His faultlessness, I am below the lowest. And He chooses to trust me.
So why do I have such a hard time trusting Him?
Oh, how thankful I am for God’s perfection! As I have cried because I cannot figure out why my baby is fussy, completely ignorant of very easy solutions… As I have torn through my neighborhood, looking for my son and desperate for knowledge beyond my limited own…
This definition of motherhood has taken on a bit of a new image, for me. I see so clearly the areas of my weakness and, in contrast, where He is strong. I want to take those times of hands upturned in frustration, a cry of exhaustion brimming at my lips, and instead turn it into acknowledging how needy I am for His intervention. And accepting the help which comes straight from His endless source fulfillment to fill in and uplift where I am lacking.
I thank God for never not knowing the solution to my pain; for never losing track of me; for never being ignorant of my hurt. I am not God. I can trust God because He IS perfection. And even beyond the degree of my imperfection, is God’s goodness, love, mercy, peace- His superior knowledge of things to come, things hidden, and things behind. I am never lost. I am never forgotten. MY CHILDREN will never fall between the cracks.
Because God IS.
