When a Mother Cries
A few years ago, I read a verse in the Bible that made me laugh aloud. I had maybe read it before, but it resonated with me differently because of the life stage that surrounded me: motherhood.
Here is the verse: “Even to your old age and gray hairs I am He, I am He who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.” Isaiah 46:4 (NIV)
I laughed because gray hair was now a possibility for me; it was no longer this foreign concept that alluded me. I like the fact that God is essentially declaring that He isn’t absent in our old age; however, I couldn’t help but wonder, “Why doesn’t God rescue us from growing old?” Or, better yet, “Why doesn’t He rescue us from what is causing the majority of us to grow gray hairs?” What is that, you may ask? OUR CHILDREN!
There is nothing like motherhood. It is the greatest job this side of heaven, but it is most definitely also the hardest job. So much of motherhood is done in secret, without any fanfare, applause, or recognition. Yet, so many mothers fight the evils of despair and guilt, isolation and worry, and deep feelings of inadequacy. Culture doesn’t permit that mom to be transparent. Instead, culture celebrates the mom who, by all appearances, deserves the mom-of-the-year award. Layers and filters are futile though because if one sits in a circle of moms willing to be transparent, one will embrace the real truth - none of us are perfect. This life-long gig of motherhood is hard.
The writer of Psalm 102 was in a place of desperation when he penned these words. While he was obviously not a mother, I find that his raw feelings correlate well with motherhood. (My thoughts below in italics.)
1 “Hear my prayer, Lord; let my cry for help come to you.”
Mommas, your cries move the heart of God. May He always be your first Source and may you always remember that He is a good Father to you, His chosen daughter.
2 “Do not hide your face from me when I am in distress.
Turn your ear to me; when I call, answer me quickly.”
Because Momma, no one answers you quickly. You call the names of your kids and you wait patiently, calmly. Then you call their names again and then again and then you finally yell and scream and just before you completely lose it, then your kids respond.
3 “For my days vanish like smoke…”
Yes, the days either fly by with nothing accomplished or they drag along and bedtime cannot come soon enough.
“My bones burn like glowing embers.
4 My heart is blighted and withered like grass…”
Who knew that the words my kids would say to me would hurt so much? How can attitude from such a small body wither my insides and make me, the adult, feel so unworthy and unloved?
“I forget to eat my food.”
That’s because I have microwaved my cold coffee six times this morning, or because by the time I get everyone else fed and cleaned, I am so exhausted that the thought of eating is in itself exhausting.
7 “I lie awake…”
Because I am currently a milk machine to my infant, or my toddler wet the bed, or my nine-year-old had a bad dream, or my teenager is out at the game or the dance and I cannot sleep until his or her return.
“I have become like a bird alone on a roof.”
How in the world can I be so lonely in a house full of people?
8 “All day long my enemies taunt me; those who rail against me use my name as a curse.”
I remember wanting to be called “mom” for so many years, but if one more person in this house yells “MOM” or if one more teenager says “MOM” with hatred and sarcasm dripping off every elongated syllable…
9 “For I eat ashes as my food and mingle my drink with tears.”
Who knew that every stage of motherhood would involve so many tears. So many unseen moments of sheer exhaustion, emptiness, isolation, anxiety, and inadequacy.
Transparency goes deeper than admitting our coffee becomes cold. Transparency admits that motherhood is complex. There are so many layers to motherhood, to womanhood in general. We, as mothers, need to arrive at a place where we are willing to talk about the messiness of motherhood. We cannot continue to bottle up the grief and heartache. We cannot fear the judgments of others or fear the appearance of weakness.
Strength isn’t found in or granted by culture. Strength is not how loud you can yell, how quickly you can make demands, or how important you can become . Strength is not over-populating the activity calendar, feeding your kids 100% gluten free, sugar free, dairy free food and being proud that you appear to have it all together on your social media page. Strength is not parading your womanhood, demanding attention, and making others feel less than capable or worthy. Strength, instead, is recognizing our need for community, for grace, and for God. Strength is one’s willingness to admit the heartache, to seek healing and restoration, and to find and give compassion in the mistakes. Strength is forgiveness in action.
Momma, sometimes you feel very broken and quite helpless. You wonder how you can make any difference in your home. Can I encourage you to cry out? When a mother cries, too often it is in privacy and it is carried by only the inflicted. BUT, when a mother cries out to God the Father, there is a strength that rises up in the inner-most, the part that God created to bear His image. When we partner with Him and permit Him into all the ups and downs of motherhood, we will experience a renewed strength in His rescue.
Psalm 102 continues to shed light:
12 “But you, Lord, sit enthroned forever; your renown [fame] endures through all generations.”
Momma, this should be your cry! The Lord remains the same through our interrupted plans, our deepest fears, or our wounded hearts. His state of being never shifts; it is not thrown off by a moody pre-teen or a jealous younger sibling or a mom who hasn’t showered in two days.
17 “He will respond to the prayer of the destitute; he will not despise their plea.”
This is a promise, not a possibility. God will respond to your plea. Whether you are kneeling by your bed, leaning over a toilet, changing a diaper, or trying to survive your teen’s first driving lesson…He hears you, He sees you, and He responds in His loving-kindness.
27 “But you Lord remain the same, and your years will never end. 28 The children of your people will live in security; their children’s children will thrive in your presence.” (NLT)
This is strength at its best. Christ alone is strong; only He remains the same. Notice though that His heart is for His children, for your children, for you. His desire is that we live in Him not in culture. That we teach our own children more about His presence than we do about the perversion of this world.
You are worthy of the gift in front of you. God will equip you, strengthen you, and comfort you every step of the journey. When a mother cries, she moves the heart of God. Every gray hair is even known to Him. Just like the verse declares, He will sustain you. No doubt, as a mom, you have the hardest job in the world. It is too often unseen, underappreciated, and quite often, overlooked. However, you have the greatest opportunity to partner with God in being persistently present in the lives of your children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews, cousins, siblings, and friends. Yes, this life-long gig of motherhood is challenging, but God promises to “strengthen you and help you; [He] will uphold you with His righteous hand” (Isaiah 41:10).
Happy Mother’s Day to all the beautiful women who are fighting the good fight despite all the complexities. My prayer for you is that you will not go at this alone, you will not embrace the hurts as badges, and that you will not merely roll over and accept defeat. May you instead be encouraged to turn to the unchanging Source of Christ Jesus, to accept His strength, and to lean on His Truth.
Until next time,
