motherhood: the end of me

I shared the following words on Facebook almost two years ago, in the depths of life that is being 4 months postpartum with two kids under age two. It was, I think, the first time I ever shared something so vulnerable so publicly. Motherhood will do that to you - there is just no more shame 😂 Even my husband, after reading my post that day, asked something to the effect of, "Are you ok and what have you done with my wife?" Motherhood is not for the weak, right? Because it is, at its core, a downward journey to your death. That might sound pretty dramatic, but truly - growing, birthing, and raising kids is the epitome of learning to die to one's self to serve others. I'm not sure how else to explain it. As Christians, we are all called to this downward journey (Luke 9:23), but I've found that motherhood is such a rapid acceleration of this transformation, such an intense crucible, forming in us the very nature of Christ (if we allow it).

In reading this post again, I have so much grace and love for that girl - that is, me two years ago - in the dregs of postpartum working mom hell while trying to navigate who she's called to be and how to passionately hold those callings and those babies in both arms. God met me so deeply there, and He continues to meet me and show me the path that merges the callings of motherhood and pastorhood. After all, they are the same calling: learning how to die in service and love of others.

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I am being deeply formed in these 'two under two' days. Trying to figure out how to be me. What does that even mean? I am not sure of much. Who knew just trying to keep 3 humans alive could be so exhausting? I feel genuinely full of peace and joy and freedom but also if my husband looks at me wrong I will burst into tears for no apparent reason. I am trying to be a pastor. What does that even mean? I do not want to be someone on the outside that I am not on the inside. I try to pray through the toddler screaming at me "PUPPIES!" She wants to watch Paw Patrol again. Is it bad that I let her so I have 10 minutes of quiet? Probably. Who was I praying for today? There was someone...

My brain is a scrambled egg. Shoot, I am burning the scrambled eggs again. Luckily my daughter doesn't care. She has more grace for me than I have for me. We get to church eventually. I want to be a non-anxious presence for my people in a world of chaos, but the anxiety induced by trying to get my family out the door on time makes this goal laughable. In fact, I have to laugh or else I would cry. I lead worship but my babies are crying for me in the second row. I cannot focus on anything. All of this confirms my deepest fear - there is no way I can be a Mom and a pastor too. I simply do not have the strength or capacity. It is not meant to be. All the Pauls of the world must be right: I should just be quiet.

Regardless, my schedule says I am teaching on Samson this week. I open the book to Judges. I hate Judges. Worst book in the Bible. I am convinced it only exists to show the reader how far off track from God's original plan the world has steered. I am reminded that Samson is not the strong hero my Sunday school experience painted him to be. He is a vile abusive character and a terrible leader. Proof once more that God will use whoever the h*ck He wants to, which frustrates and encourages me. Why is his story even in here? I can only find one reason: to illustrate that no one can serve God of His own strength. Samson tries embarrassingly hard to deliver his people from the Philistines because he knows God has set him apart to that end. He fails miserably and often and hilariously. When Samson comes to the end of himself, blinded and in a suicidal rage, there is God, finally able to get something done.

I remember that God is in the middle of my chaos. He is holding me together. At the end of me, there He is. In my weakness, He is strong. We say it all the time but it is another thing to live it. Perhaps this is the very reason we need more moms as pastors. We are not strong like Samson and our brains are mush (ok, just me then). And yet, we are the strongest of all, here at the end of ourselves. I do not like it here, really. I just want to be strong. But I remember it is a good thing for the world that I am not, so that God can get something done through me and in me.

When I am called to do things beyond my strength, I can. Because, well, Philippians 4:13 and all. Samson didn't get it, like most of the world doesn't get it. But it is nice to put on t-shirts and pillows. Anyway - Lord, be glorified in my weakness.

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So, maybe motherhood is for the weak? I sure hope so, because that's what I am today. And most days. But when I am weak, He is strong.

Here's to the moms out there at the end of ourselves. We are right where we need to be.