I love Christmas time because you get to see all the family pictures, newsletters and posts about what is new in the lives of people who are close and those you have lost touch with. It is a blessed time getting to read about all the adventures, see the new family additions, cute dress-up clothes, etc. I love it!
It is also a time of self-analyzing that I know we don’t always do intentionally. We look at everyone else’s accomplishments as mothers whether it be number of “picture-perfect” children, financial status, or how picturesque the family looks in the photos and think-what have I done wrong and where have I fallen short? Or, why didn’t I get started on Christmas cards sooner this year?! It’s amazing the amount of weight that we, as mothers, bear on our shoulders. It is not because anyone else necessarily placed it on there, but because we have a vision of how great our children’s lives should be and that the sole responsibility of their happiness, healthiness, and ability to amount to greatness rests in the palms of our hands.
I have bore this responsibility heavily lately with the inability to be the mother that I envisioned for my child. There are days where I see it as okay and have accepted this season in our lives. Then there are others days, most days, where I see it as a handicap my daughter must bear as well. It is unfair, I want to scream and cry as loud as my soul and body are able. We don’t have a “Pinterest” schedule where we awake, do crafts, school time, paint some more, then finish the day up with more outside playing. There are days where that can be done, but it is not typical. Will she be at a disadvantage growing up this way? Will I be the cause if she doesn’t reach the office of President of the United States?
We all have our battles, whether it be a physical limitation, there’s never enough time, we feel like we work too much, etc. I don’t know that I have ever met a mother that truly feels, oh by golly I’ve got it-my kids are going to be amazing because I am the best, did everything right, I am perfect. We all struggle with feeling like we have to strive just a little bit more to achieve perfect motherhood so that our children will be alright.
Those thoughts brought me to this Christmas and thinking a lot about the manger. We were striving (there’s that word again) to get my daughter to truly understand the meaning of Christmas is all about the manger, not the Christmas presents. But, coincidentally enough, as I sit back and think about all my striving, I go back to that manger. Since the garden of Eden when Eve and Adam sinned, we have never been enough on our own. And that’s a tough pill to swallow…I’m a perfectionist! But, our miracle came that Christmas morning when Jesus came to earth. He came to live, die and rise again to be enough for each and every one of us.
I remember praying the night before my first spinal surgery as I was scared out of my mind. It was routine to everyone else, except me. I prayed that night that I would be able to give my child up to God, no matter the outcome. It is a prayer I have to pray often. It is not easy to “give your child up” even though He is the one from whom the gift came in the first place (interesting thought). He is the one who can care and raise up a child, lead and direct wiser than any of us. Yet, we want to be in sole control of it all and think if we aren’t-chaos ensues. That Christmas morning, when Jesus came it changed everything. He has saved me and given me power that I so desperately lack on my own. He has my child’s best interest at heart because He is her Father as well, looking on with an even greater love I can’t begin to understand. His grace, mercy, wisdom, power, and so much more are more than enough for us both. So, take a breath mommas! And don’t forget who is truly holding us all.