It’s not enough. I’m not enough, I said to my friend on the phone, tears in my eyes.
I probably didn’t have to explain to her, a fellow mom, this despair I’d found myself in, one you might feel if you’re a homemaker: the long days with toddlers that are pretty much all the same, but also wildly unpredictable:
The bump on the head that leads to a full-on tantrum, and then a mood change to running around the house giggling, fast as the flip of a switch.
Sweeping pasta off the floor (one of the top three worst foods to sweep) and changing diapers.
The screaming at a check-up with the dentist and the whole car ride home as I sit and stew to a peaceful but all-too-short nap.
During the naps, I attempt to sneak in some work of my own: writing posts and proposals, podcasting, figuring out my next steps. Those moments are over too fast.
It’s not enough.
The work I do at home. It’s painfully endless and monotonous. The diaper I changed half an hour ago has to be changed again, the laundry has to be put through another cycle, dinner rolls around and everyone has to eat.
But there are women out there making a living. They get to have conversations that aren’t about doggies or bubbles, and they get to solve problems outside of finding lost rainboots. They’re saving lives and enriching them by practicing medicine or creating art or teaching or studying, stocking shelves or designing buildings or pastoring or inventing new things. Surely that work is more significant.
I’m not enough.
I’m limited. I lose my temper frequently. I stay up too late so I can get time to myself and then wind up exhausted the next day. I’d often rather turn on another episode of Bluey than go to the park or play a game. I get touched out, which makes me cranky.
Surely a better mom would always be playful and fun. She wouldn’t sit on the kitchen floor and scroll through her phone. She wouldn’t lose her cool with another tantrum or a delay getting out the door. Other moms are stronger, smarter, and better. Their kids are lucky; mine got stuck with me.
My poor friend listened to my words, and wisely suggested we pray, requesting strength and encouragement on my behalf to tackle this truly important work right in front of me and to know God loves me and made me more than enough for the task.
Her prayer reminded me of this:
There is ministry in the mundane
and the messy.
It’s hard to say for certain, as I didn’t know Mary, mother of Jesus, personally, but I wonder if she struggled with some of these same feelings. There’s so much we don’t see of her motherhood for 30 years before Jesus’s own ministry began.
I’m willing to bet Mary grappled with her own self-worth as she tidied the house and looked after the toddler-sized Son of God, feeling impatient in the long days or perfectly average as she swept the floor or washed clothes.
Maybe she too wondered if God had picked the right person for the job, as she dealt with frustrations and guilt. Maybe in sensing the weight of the role, she felt unequipped. She was, after all, human.
To minister means to care for the needs of someone else–physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. While some do this as a profession to care mostly for the spiritual needs of a community or church, moms do this all the time (whether at home or working outside the home) without another thought.
Our task to raise children and care for their well-being is holy work. The spaces we do this are holy ground.
We are raising leaders and thinkers and workers of tomorrow. We’re introducing them to a faithful God who designed each of them thoughtfully, gave them purpose, and constantly invites them into a relationship with him. We’re caring for their whole well-being, answering their core questions in the affirmative as they wonder if they’re loved, if they belong, if they have important things to do.
And Mom, you are just the one for the job. Yes, even with all your imperfections. Even with the mistakes you’ve made or the things you missed. You were designed to be your child’s mom, and your child was designed to be your son or daughter. I have hope that God will use the ways I fall short with my kids and the many apologies I’ve had to make are letting them see all of me, even my messiness and mistakes.
Because even though we make mistakes, God doesn’t. God’s in the business of restoring broken things, and he can use us even in our broken moments to invite our children to know him, whether we see it in the moment or not.
God also brings such delight and wonder in these days, as we participate in raising our children with him. There are moments of laughing with our kids as they make silly faces or tell sometimes truly awful jokes. We cheer them on whether they’ve completed a task or hit the next level in a game or learned something new. We snuggle and high five and hug and kiss boo-boos. We see ourselves in their little personalities and the glory of God in their miraculous beings.
Wherever you feel like you are in your motherhood today, let me encourage you: that’s a ministry. It’s of the utmost importance, and your whole being is vital to the job. May we feel encouragement and strength as we go about this difficult and ultimately wonderfully rewarding work.
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Read more of Jenn’s contributions to AllMomDoes here.
