The other day at the store I loaded my groceries onto the belt, trying to make sure my little “helpers” didn’t drop the eggs. Suddenly I heard someone screaming. I looked up and realized the woman in front of me had two toddlers in a double stroller and two slightly older kids hanging off her cart. A mom with four little kids! As we are expecting baby #4 in January, I watched her in fascination.
The toddlers were both yelling when one of the older kids suddenly grabbed a bag of goldfish from the stroller and accidentally ripped the bag, sending goldfish flying into the air. “What are you doing?!” the mom cried out. The yelling from the stroller intensified. The mom got down in the face of one toddler and sternly told him to be quiet. He calmed down, but only until she turned to the other boy, then the first one started yelling again. They tag-teamed her like that until the cashier interrupted with the total for her groceries.
I had a strong urge to hug the mom, but she was clearly busy so I held back.
As she paid for her groceries she noticed me and said, “Look how well behaved your kids are!” My kids were staring at hers in awe, probably jealous of all the crazy fun they were having. I laughed and said, “Yes, for the moment.” We had a quick, distracted conversation. She has a six year old, a four year old, and twin two-year-olds. “That was an experience!” she said about having twins. She asked about my kids and I told her they’re five, three, and 17 months, with baby #4 on the way. “Great! Congratulations!” she said as she headed for the door.
For some reason I got a little teary-eyed as I left the store a few minutes later. Was it fear from that quick glimpse into my future? Or relief to randomly find a kindred spirit? I’m a bit emotional these days and I’m blaming it all on pregnancy hormones.
But I know there’s more to it than that. These past few months have been so very humbling for me as a mom. I am beyond thankful for my children and all the life and laughter they bring into our house. My kids are bright, hilarious little people. There are days when I’m sure I have the best job in the world.
But I have also never felt like more of a failure than I have this year of my life.
Sometimes after the toddler’s been up crying at night (and I’ve given her a bottle to get her back to sleep), and my older two won’t stop fighting (and I’ve somehow joined the argument instead of stopping it), and my three-year-old once again refuses to go anywhere near the potty (and I’m at a loss for what to do about it), I find myself wondering, is this how I’m supposed to be feeling as a mother? Totally inadequate at least half the time?
I realize that most of these issues are age-related and one way or another, Lord willing, we will all survive these early years. My children might all even end up potty-trained some great and glorious day many years down the road.
But here’s what I’m starting realize: what my children do and who they eventually become is not in my control. Yes, I have great influence in their lives. But even if I do everything “right” and follow biblical principles for godly parenting to the very best of my ability, my kids will still be sinners. They might not be happy or healthy or successful. Worst of all, they might choose not to follow Jesus.
Recently my brother Hans, who himself has four kids age four and under, recommended a book to me called Give Them Grace. Author Elyse Fitzpatrick says that every time my children disobey, I should see my reflection in their actions. Because the truth is that most of the time, I’m sinning right alongside them. They’re screaming and hitting each other, and I’m more upset about being interrupted than I am about the condition of their little hearts. We are all in this sinful mess together.
But every fight, every meltdown, every tantrum is a chance to give grace to my children and myself. To say to my kids, “We are all selfish sinners. You are selfish and I am selfish. Isn’t it amazing that Jesus died to save us anyway? He is our only hope.” Lately I’ve been praying less that my kids will just obey me and more that they will see how desperately they need a Rescuer. And I’m more aware than ever of just how much I need rescuing too.
Of course we all want to bring God glory through beautiful, happy, well-behaved children. “That is a good desire,” writes Fitzpatrick, “but a strong, successful family may not be the way he has chosen for us to glorify him… What if he’s going to use our failure and our children’s rebellion to make us humble comforters of other sufferers for his glory?”
If I had my act together, that concept would probably be very unsettling. But I don’t. I’m often exhausted and uncertain. At least once a day I find myself surprised, wondering, how do I handle this? I love thinking about our new baby on the way, but sometimes the idea of 2014 scares me. I wonder how I’ll ever be able to give each of my four little ones what they need when they all need so much from me all the time.
But Fitzpatrick says I should let go of the “good mom” identity I’m chasing. The truth is I will always fall short. I will always need a Rescuer. Instead I should ask God to show me how he’s at work in each challenging situation, trust him to use even my failures for his glory, and thank him for the weaknesses that keep me “pinned close to the Lord.”
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