I realize a little more each day that passes on this rollercoaster of parenting, just how little motherhood looks the way I thought it would.
I envisioned it as hard work, “colorful” and unpredictable, yes, but for some reason, I also imagined it being…well, somewhat “controllable” and, uh…neatly packaged?
Like little balls of play-doh, sweetly nestled into their color-specific containers.
Organized. Practical. Pretty.
I’m not sure at this point whether I have always been delusional, or whether it was just mostly regarding the topic of parenting, but I should probably seek therapy for this problem.
Or drink less coffee.
Therapy it is.
I digress.
My recovering-control-freak/type A/impatient-perfectionist streak has come a little unglued over the past 3 years.
And I’m learning that it’s a beautiful thing.
Just when I think I have life {relatively} under control, looking pretty {on the outside}, and right where I want it. It starts to fall apart ever so slightly. Or sometimes, a lot.
I have found that when I put my security and comfort in something other than God, He shakes that ‘something’. Not because He’s malicious and desires to see me struggle and fall-apart, but because He knows in intricately and is fully aware of the fact that He’s the only one I can truly lean into, trust fully, and depend on wholeheartedly.
But I keep trying.
I fall back into clinging to counterfeits. Seeking to find my comfort, my identity, my security in tangible things.
But no thing was designed to bear that load.
Not my bank account. Not my housing situation. Not my health, or my family’s health. Not my reputation. Not my church. Not my friends or family. Not even my marriage.
The only “thing” that can bear the weight of this life is the One who created it.
And leaning into Him is right where He wants us.
He tenderly cleans us, refines us, redeems us, and mold us. If we surrender to the pressure.
Sure it doesn’t always feel good, and yes, it often looks {very} different than we envisioned it would, but I’m learning to trust His all-knowing, ever-loving, unendingly-good plan for my life. And it is good. I know this full well.
All it takes is a little reflection. Hindsight is always 20/20.
And my God has never. let. me. down.
Never.
I’ve been noticing that in this almighty molding process…His hands are looking an awful lot like my children’s.
It never ceases to amaze me how much I learn about myself {and discover things about my character that grieve me} through these little babes.
{Oh, what sharp, pointy little tools they can be in the refining process of my heart}
I can spend time crafting what I think something should look like; for instance, this fab little play-doh fruit bowl my daughter and I molded this morning after breakfast:
I really should know by now to not do anything painstakingly creative around children.
I really should.
If I create elaborate lego-structures…they’re demolished in seconds, as I {quietly} sigh {fine…I weep inside}. If I draw detailed, perfectly-shaded images on our driveway with side-walk chalk…they’re rolled in, colored over, or washed away before they have a chance at being completed. Thankfully the {silent} weeping and gnashing of teeth has slowly been diminishing over the years {insert colossal sigh of relief}.
So why on God’s green earth did I think miniscule little grapes and bananas would survive the destructive repurposing grasp of my 3 year old?
Aah, yes. The ever-refining “tool” of parenthood.
I realize this may all sound very odd {even disturbing} to someone who doesn’t struggle with type A {perfectionism} and control {freakism}, but rest assured…God is determined to {gently and patiently} rip them out of me. And this is a very good thing!
These are deep-seated issues that I have struggled with for as long as I can recall, and I’m actually terrified delighted at the idea of being “relieved” of them.
Dude, it’s exhausting trying to perfectly spin so many plates while appearing to look all put-together and unfazed by the chaos encircling my ankles. I’m so over the pretentious mommy-mafia lifestyle. Bring on the under-construction, authentic mom-life we were created for!
{roar}
As painful and frustrating as the process of refining and character development can be at times, I’m so thankful that I am a different person than I was 3 years ago, and so grateful to be nestled in the hand of One fully invested in the tender molding and faithful redeeming of my life in the years to come.
So here I sit, totally over the tragic squishing of aforementioned play-doh fruit, forging on in life, and realizing…what better way to use teeny tiny fruit than to apply froggy facial features? Where does she get this incredible creative talent?
I mean, hel-lo!
