I thought of you at 1AM when my youngest woke to the low and long rumbling thunder. When she came back in my room the second time, just 20 minutes later, I yawned and sighed heavy in the dark and knew I probably wasn’t alone. Maybe you were up too, nursing your baby, or changing a wet bed. Maybe you were smoothing out fears one tender stroke across a sweaty toddler forehead at a time, in the dark, while your bones ached for the comfort of your own bed.
I stated to write this letter to you in my head this morning, while my children roared and spun their way through the massive aisles at the bog box store. I wanted to disappear between the giant racks when they yelped and howled as if they were outside, despite my constant not so friendly pleas for them to shush.
I suppose it did feel a bit like the outdoors, what, with the birds fluttering between the rafters and all.
I thought of all my weary mom companions as I loaded gigantic groceries and 4 squirmy children into the hot van, and then as they all wanted food and drinks and … they always have needs, don’t they?–and it can get tiresome, serving all day, doesn’t it? I know. I’m weary too.
And just so you know, admitting weariness in mothering is not the same as complaining. (It really isn’t.)
But you know last night, as I tucked my oldest into bed, he asked me about the book of Matthew, he wanted to know what a certain scripture meant, and what I read was for me, as I hung there on the ladder of his bunk, so tired and eager to shut down for the night:
“Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.“Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and YOU WILL FIND REST FOR YOUR SOULS.“For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30
It’s true, some days I’m so worn out, I wonder how I will make it from lunch until bed time. Some days, I’m weary from sun-up, and those days are hard, right? Those are the days I’d rather forget, when I am not my nicest, when I feed them chips for lunch and send them outside just so I can breathe. I feel guilt for all those poor parenting moments, and I hold all of my weariness in my arms until I cannot carry it.
When I finally spill, it’s ugly and I was reminded last night that I don’t have to carry this on my own. Jesus calls the weary and heavy laden. What mother can say she is never weary in her efforts to raise a child? Jesus calls us to himself, and I collapse in His arms again and again, seeking rest for my soul. He is my sanctuary when it all piles up on top of me, and it’s such grace!
Take it to Him, weary Mom. Don’t try to carry it all by yourself. You don’t have to. Isn’t that encouraging? In Christ, we will find rest for our souls.
Love from my crazy house to yours,
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