Giving Up

Parenting is hard.  Anyone who says otherwise either has a child less than a week old or is lying.  Certainly there are moments it feels blissfully easy.  There are times it's rewarding and wonderful, fun and exciting.  

But in between those moments are the hard ones.  The heartwrenchingly painful moments of watching your child hurt.  The immensely difficult moments of having to discipline - to be God's tool in molding a child to become more like Him.  The physically exhausting moments of nursing a baby in the middle of the night, comforting a sick child in the wee hours of the morning.  The emotionally exhausting moments that stretch into hours, days, weeks.  

God uses parenting to stretch and grow us in a way nothing else can.  We are brought to our knees as we question.  Question ourselves, our worth, our very identity.  Question Who God is, what He is doing and where He is!!  We are terrified, of the unknown, of the future, of ourselves and our human nature.  

And at some point, we want to give up.  Today I did.  I wanted to give up on my life.  On the monotony of the laundry, the dishes, the vacuuming, the feeding and wiping and dressing these little people.  But mostly trying to make the hard decisions, trying to figure out how to reach their hearts.  Trying to pick up the shattered pieces of myself after they shouted, "You hate me, you hate me, you hate me!"  

And I did.  I gave up.  I came to the end of myself and cried out to God that I could not do it, that He must have made a mistake giving me these children.  I told Him that I was spent, exhausted, that I could not go on.    

And I realized that it is Right, it's True that I cannot parent these children on my own.  I don't have the emotional energy, the physical energy, the wisdom, the anything.  I am utterly unworthy.  He uses these moments to remind me that I am absolutely dependent on Him.  

And He speaks to me.  If I am willing to listen, He is always speaking to me.  Sometimes He gives me a scripture, sometimes a friend who can encourage.  Sometimes it just looking at those sleeping children at night or feeling a tiny toddler's hand on my cheek while she gets as close as possible to whisper some secret to me.  Sometimes I'm convicted.  Sometimes I'm comforted.  Sometimes He reminds me that this relationship parallels the relationship He has with me - that I am not very unlike that child who is ungrateful, who is disrespectful, disobedient and defiant, but yet, through it all, is loved deeply, unconditionally, with forgiveness always waiting.  

Today, after a day that felt like battle, He spoke to me with a gift of a sincere apology and seven precious cents.  One nickel and two pennies put into my hand with an explanation, "I don't really want to give these to you, but I do want to give them to you.  It's not too little and it's not too much.  I want to say I'm sorry."  

He spoke healing into my soul and into our relationship.  He reminded me that He is walking the whole way with me and when I come to the end of myself, that's where He is.  That's where He will always be.  

Feeding my... Five?

I know I have been remarkably silent since my one and only post only two months ago.  Shortly after posting, we were surprised to discover we had a fifth blessing on the way.  Not only did it take a bit of getting used to (five kids?!?  Really, God?  You are trusting us with FIVE lives?  After I just admitted that I really struggle in a lot of ways to care for four!?), but I have also been, well, pregnant.

And anyone who has been pregnant knows what that means.  It means that for the past couple of months, I have been in what I call "first trimester fog."  It means I wake up in the morning and make a to-do list for the day.  Something like this:
-dress little people
-feed little people
-do a load of laundry
Then, I immediately feel overwhelmed by the enormity of those tasks and start counting the hours until I can go back to bed.

It means I constantly feel tired, that kind of tired that can never be explained to someone who hasn't experienced it.  Exhaustion, Weariness, Fatigue.  That kind of tired that is painful.  The kind of tired that leaves you sitting on your kitchen floor crying because you just can't muster up the energy to make a PB+J for someone for lunch.  With my first, I was tired.  I remember sleeping probably at least 16 hours a day.  There were times I felt refreshed.  Even with my second, I was able to follow that age old advice "Nap when the baby naps."  But after two, "nap when the baby naps" becomes a sick joke.  When the baby is napping, the preschooler is gluing his body to the wall (literally, with a purple glue stick).  When the preschooler is napping, the baby is begging to watch a midnight showing of Elmo.  A few nights ago, I dropped into bed, giddy at the thought of a night's sleep.  I woke sandwiched so tightly between my two and six year olds that I literally had to lay on my side because there wasn't room for me to turn to my back.  And my head was not on my pillow, because my 4 year old's entire body was curled up on it, like an enormous, restless cat.  Exhaustion doesn't even begin to touch this.

It means food becomes a whole issue.  I sit down to write a menu plan and grocery list for the week (in one of those rare moments when I can keep my eyes open long enough to focus), and realize the though of every single food I can think of makes me nauseous.  All except one thing, gouda one week, apples the next, toast the third.  But I certainly can't just buy cases of a single food for my family for a week.  So I force myself to make a weekly dinner plan with lots of variety.  Something like this:
Monday: Grilled cheese
Tuesday: Grilled cheese
Wednesday: Grilled cheese
etc.
Then I force myself to go to the store (Okay, I'll be honest, I think I've gone to the store twice in the past few months - the truth is I send my dear, dear husband, who not only goes to the store but doesn't complain about the menu of grilled cheese 29 nights in a month).

Eventually, it means we announce our pregnancy to the world and are met with embarrassing questions about our sex lives (you know how this happens right?), unabashed personal prying (was this planned?), and oddly negative reactions from other parents who appear to love their kids but just can't imagine enjoying having several of them.
Of course, the ones we like to focus on, and cling to, are the wonderful ones.  The older women who confide that they always wished they could have more.  The ones who squeal and jump and act as though we are giving them the greatest gift imaginable by having another child.  The ones who remind us that God is indeed blessing us, that He indeed trusts us, that we will not only manage to deliver five children safely to adulthood but that we can do it with grace and do it well!  The ones who hug us.  The ones who know us well enough or are polite enough to not ask probing, awkward questions.

And in the midst of it all, I become home to a miracle.  A life growing inside my body.  The kids ask about the size of the baby, what it looks like, what it can do.  So we look online and learn that now it has a beating heart, that now it's tripled in size, that now it can blink it's tiny eyes, and, to lots of giggles, that now it can pee.  There is nothing I could do to create a human life, to start a heart beating, to cause a body to grow, to create moving eyelids or even a working bladder.

 I am reminded that I am not in control.  Daily I worry that I will lose the baby, that something is wrong.  Daily, hourly, I remember there is NOTHING I can do to control the outcome. 
I can pray.
I can trust.  Trust the creator of the Universe.  The Creator.  Of The Universe.  Of the Universe, and also of this tiny child He is gifting us with.

Psalm 139: 13-16
For you created my inmost being, you knit me together in my mother's womb.  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well.  My frame was not hidden from You when I was made in the secret place.  When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, Your eyes saw my unformed body.  All the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be."

I remind my kids daily (seems like it's been hourly the past week) that their siblings deserve to be treated with honor because they are made in The Image of God Himself.  The Creator of the Universe is using my body to create a new life, a life fashioned to reflect Him in His glory.

It kind of makes everything else fade away.  I become ashamed to admit the number of times I've complained about my exhaustion, my food aversions.  The number of times I've been so self-focused that I've become fearful, overwhelmed, wondering how on earth I could possibly care for five little humans.  How I could parent them well, how I could retain my sanity while keeping their noses and bottoms clean.  How I could teach them to use the potty, tie their shoes, treat each other well, learn to read.  And most importantly, to love God with Abandon.  To seek Him desperately and long, above all else, to serve and honor Him.  How, how, how??

Selfishness, vanity, all of it!  Because the truth is, I can't.  I can't do it all.  Honestly, I can't even do half of it.  But God can.  And He will.  Even when I fail.  Even when I fail a thousand times.  He is still their Creator.  The Creator of the universe and the creator of my family.  Just as I cannot cause my unborn child's heart to begin beating, I cannot cause my 6 year old's heart to love God.
I can pray.
I can trust.
I can be obedient to God as He guides me - teaching my kids Bible verses, praying with them, being patient with them, being an example, even if that means admitting I was wrong.
I can be obedient as He strengthens me - to show them His love at 3am when they are sick, at 10pm when they are afraid, at any and every moment He calls me to action, I can be obedient.

So, I look forward with anticipation to feeding my Five.  It's easy to find joy in the unknown when I remember to take my eyes off myself and look toward God.  He has a plan for our family I cannot begin to imagine and I am giddy with excitement and honor that He has chosen me to be a part of it.