Nothing has made me feel as powerless as being a mother has. Miscarriage, NICU weeks, medical testing, probable diagnosis that still leaves questions, a child with special needs - all things in the last five years that I have had no control over. Oh, how I love some control.
Today in the middle of the shoe department of Kohl's I felt a bit hopeless. Shopping to find toddler boy shoes is difficult enough. (Statistical fact: For every thirty pair of girls shoes there is one pair for boys.) It is even more difficult when a very specific style of shoe is needed to go over braces. It is possible that such a shoe does not exist.
In the midst of this realization, I realized I lacked control. Both boys were having a hard time being in the store. So I left with Bug wearing his falling apart shoes and with Bubby yelling in the parking lot (again), "I don't like you, Mommy!!" After a very long ride home, the rest of the day went better. Somehow most of it was actually enjoyable.
Now I sit here looking at my Christmas tree knowing each day I have a choice. I can worry about shoes and drooling and IEPs. I can worry about how much my oldest is like me and how will he make it through childhood undamaged. I can worry about the big things like lost relationships and the little things like which way to go for schooling next year. But I know that when I worry, I lose hope. And when I lose hope, I lose rest and perspective and the ability to function.
Then tonight I read a very familiar verse, but the timing of it was perfect.
Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.
I read this over and over. I nod my head, and somehow in these words on rest and how to obtain it, I glimpse hope.
I've been studying Jesus the last few months in Matthew, and I am coming to the conclusion that I can relate to Him, even in my mothering. Especially in my mothering. He was training twelve imperfect men to be like Him. He dealt with their pride, anger, impulsiveness, and lack of understanding among other things. It must have been exhausting in many of the same ways I am exhausted.
Therefore, when He promises to give me rest, He gives it as someone who must have been pretty drained during some of His time on earth. He gives me rest as someone who understands, as someone who heals, as someone who intercedes. His rest is that of depth and sustainability. Knowing these things, I will choose to come to Him with my worries. I will choose to trade them in for this gift of hope.