God

Plans, Resentments, and Being a Mom.

Abe

A few months ago, I found myself sitting in my church office conference room, sobbing and speaking of feelings I didn’t know I felt.

Well, until that moment.

I couldn’t tell you the details of the conversation I was having with my pastor, because I honestly can’t remember what it was about. I know it was pretty light hearted and general, nothing too deep or major. But a few of Dale’s questions later and there I was, letting go of something and allowing a healing process to begin.

ANOTHER HEALING PROCESS. Gosh, it feels like it never ends, you know?

What grace.

For some reason I brought up my frustration over my son waking up so unbearably early (he gets up anywhere between 4:30 and 6 am), and my deeper frustration over why I can’t just accept that and be an adult and start my day. I shared how I struggled with wanting to be up at all, and how I would sit Abe on the couch to watch a cartoon, and I would fall asleep next to him.

I had identified  my sleep idol a long time ago, but this felt deeper.

I asked myself questions like, “Why am I ok with getting up at 5:30 in the morning to be at the first session of Catalyst, but treat my son waking up like it’s the end of the world?”

I shared with Dale that I love my son like I’ve never loved anyone else. I mean, I would KILL for this kid in a heart beat, no questions asked. I love him so much that I am in constant fear of failing him as a mom.

So how could I possibly feel this way about my son, and at the same time enjoy my life more when he is away from me rather than when he is in my presence?

Why wasn’t I happy to see his little face every morning, regardless of what time it was?

And then Dale’s big question came.

“Do you think you might have some resentments against having a child so early in your marriage?”

You know when you cut yourself really bad, but there are a few seconds before you look at the blood and you think “Oh, it’s probably not to bad.” Then you look down and find an unbelievable amount of blood gushing out, giving you a sense of reality and triggering the emotion. That’s when the crying or screaming or fainting happens.

Sometimes I don’t realize how bloody a wound is, or how deep a sin can be. And then someone asks a question, and all of a sudden my vision is clear, and I can see the blood.

This time, it made me cry. It made me cry so much, right in that room. It made me cry for weeks after that conversation, and is kinda making my cry right now.

Needless to say, the answer to Dale’s question was “YES.”

Abe came along about 4 years earlier than planned. We wanted to have great jobs established. We wanted to have several years of solid “married” time. We wanted to travel, and blah blah blah.

You get the point. It’s so incredibly selfish that I don’t even want to keep typing everything Daniel and I felt entitled to.

But instead, God gave us Abram Isaiah Webb. He gave us Medicaid and food assistance. He gave us a house to live in that looked like someone painted it with pepto bismol and used horse fertilizer to stain the carpets. He gave Daniel a job at a machine shop and me little things here and there. He put us back into Lake City, Florida. He spurred our marriage into honesty and sanctification, and I didn’t like it.

It was all just so overwhelming and so fast that I don’t think I really took it all in and processed it. Up until that day in the conference room, I was treating the past two and a half years, in regards to my family,  like I had treated past situations; with bitterness, apathy and repression.

Can I be totally honest right now?

Realizing that you resent your child and even your husband a little bit HURTS LIKE HELL.

So my initial gaze at the wound was not pleasant. It was gross, painful and heart breaking.

But in that moment, a spark ignited.

When heart and wound meet face to face, something begins.

Recognition. Acceptance. Mourning. Repentance. Restoration. New life.

The love and adoration I feel for my son now is unexplainable. What an undeserving gift God would give to me. Not to say I don’t have days where remnants of that resentment are uncovered. The difference now is that I recognize what it is and how to fight it.

Dale encouraged me to share this on my blog. I agreed with him that it was something I needed to share, but I wasn’t quite ready to put it down on the internet yet. The main reason being this: being a mother is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, therefore it is the area of my life I am most insecure. And in those times when I am drowning in that insecurity, I am crippled by the thought that other moms think I’m not cutting it. I also find it very easy to condemn other moms over their decisions, giving me the illusion of confidence. Maybe not always out loud, but most definitely in my thoughts.

So here it is, I’m laying it all bare. I resented my child for coming to early. I resented Daniel for being the other number in the math equation that equaled a baby. I lost my awe for God because I felt like He was wrapping grace and blessing in a very strange box, and I didn’t approve.

I’ve repented of that to God, but I also repent of that to you. If these resentments have ever made themselves manifest in the way I’ve talked or treated you, then I am sorry.

The truth is, I know almost nothing about anything with complete sure-ity (even when I act like I do). But I am starting to discover who God is, which gives me 100% confidence that I am not Him.

He is deep, He is wide, and He knows of and cares for every fiber that makes up who I am. 

March Writing Challenge Day 21: ‘Course He Isn’t Safe.

I’ve felt the dry heat of hell

Nipping violently at my heals

On the darkest nights of my barely lived life

When my sin is no longer concealed

Disintegrating right off my brittle bones

Like the rust on an old automobile

Laid out prostrate and not a single tear left

Now the light can finally do a skin peel

Making its way through all the cracks and valleys

Breaking up habits congealed

Finding its way to the root of my mess

A feeling that’s almost unreal

Attacking my sludge-covered heart like an untamed lion

Squeezing that evil until it squeals

Bleeding the death right out of my tendons

The tomb I was in unsealed

Twisting and blending, what excruciating pain

As the lion devours His meal

Torn apart, massacred, and gracefully broken

I am ready and willing to heal.

 

“Safe? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But He’s good. He’s the king, I tell you.”

March Writing Challenge Day 11: No One Remembers Last Year’s To-Do Lists

Everything seems fine. This morning we all woke up and enjoyed the early hours, ate breakfast, read a couple of books and went our separate ways for the day.

I had a great workout at the gym. Got real sweaty. I enjoyed a much needed food boost of two eggs and a piece of Ezekiel bread, the kind with the raisins and cinnamon. It was so delicious.

I washed myself off, cleaned our bedroom and started my work.

All is well, right?

I don’t know. For some reason, I feel sad; perhaps a little overwhelmed. Last week was kind of a disaster. Abe started the week off with a bad case of strep. He was out of commission for the whole week. Taking care of him was quite a pleasure, because we had many moments of cuddling. It was still exhausting, nonetheless. More so emotional than physical, but one affects the other. I also put quite a bit of anxiety and stress on myself last week, struggling with what people thought of me as a mom, as a part of a group, and as a person in general.

You know how one week it is so easy to believe in who you are as God’s child, and then the very next week that’s all dashed to pieces and you cannot make yourself, with all of your will, believe better?

That was last week. I’m better now, but my body feels faint. Self-inflicted anxiety really does a number on this girl.

Sometimes life calls for rest. It’s so difficult for me to answer that call when there are tasks and responsibilities piling up and people depending on me. The fear of judgement from others for  simply taking a nap is just TOO much to handle! Gosh, as if anyone even needs to know about me taking a nap. What a weirdo.

Maybe I’m afraid of the judgement I’ll place on myself.

But I know that this time next year, my to-do list for today won’t even be a distant memory, because it ultimately isn’t important in the grand scheme of life.

Do you ever think about that? Can you remember a to-do list from this day last year?

Of course not.

I’m feeling the weight of last week. I’m overwhelmed. I’m going to go lay down and rest.

And that is that.