My daughter, Laura, is a new mom. So for Mother’s Day weekend, she wrote a guest post for my blog. She’s learning an important lesson on surrender.
My daughter, Lucy Drew, is just four months old. So I don’t claim to be an expert whatsoever in anything mother-related and so forth. But I do know in these short four months, the seeds of worry and being anxious about literally everything have crept… no sprinted… into my heart. So what’s a girl to do? Here’s what the Lord has been showing me.
It all started with a blood-curdling scream. Okay, it probably wasn’t blood-curdling, but it was the first time ever I had heard my daughter scream-scream, not a cry-scream but a scared-scream. She was two months old. My sister-in-law and rambunctious nephew were stopping by one night to drop off their dog so we could watch him while their family went on vacation. That particular nephew loves to sprint to the front door and bing-bong the doorbell till someone answers (unless his mom knows Lucy may be napping, then she doesn’t let him do it). I’ve often found it endearing; my dog, Molly, on the other hand, goes bonkers alerting the presses someone is at the door. For this particular doorbell ringing, Molly happened to be lying next to Lucy on the floor. When the doorbell sounded, Molly lost all sense of self and stepped on Lucy’s legs to get to the front door. That’s when the scream happened. I couldn’t get myself down the stairs fast enough. (I had been upstairs while my husband, Andy, was downstairs with the baby and dog.) If I could have jumped over the banister safely, I probably would have. Andy said I came down so fast he didn’t even have a chance to pick Lucy up and check on her before she was already in my arms. So he sent Molly, less than affectionately, to the garage to “think about what she had done.” Needless to say, we don’t let Molly lie down this close to Lucy anymore.
Lucy was visibly upset, whimpering and shaking. This was clearly her first frightening experience. She was fine, not hurt in the slightest, just scared. I kept my composure till my sister-in-law and nephew left, and then I lost it. Bawled more than Lucy did over the stepping-on-leg incident. Why? It was in that moment I knew I couldn’t protect Lucy from everything. She will get scrapes on the knees, hurt feelings, maybe even a broken heart. She will sin and stumble. She will experience pain. And I can’t protect her from all of it. Cue the waterworks.
How many mothers out there repeatedly place their hands on their sleeping babies’ chest every night to make sure they are still breathing? Perhaps incessantly checking the soft spot on their head to make sure their babies’ aren’t dehydrated? How many times have you googled the color and texture of their poop to make sure it was normal? I’m guilty of all three counts and more. Being diligent isn’t a bad thing but fretting is. Being anxious is no help either.
Fretting has always been my weak spot. I fret till the cows come home. It’s something the Lord has been working out of me since I can remember. It was getting better. Then… I had a child. Wow, how deep the fretting goes. But fretting isn’t faith is it? It certainly isn’t trusting that God is all sovereign. It means I’m certainly not praising Him regardless of my circumstances.
I know I am not alone in this struggle. The inspiration from this blog comes from a text my mom sent me just the other day when I told her I was struggling with the stress of seeing Lucy go through an incredibly bad stomach bug. She encouragingly wrote,
“I struggled with releasing you, John, and Daniel to the Lord. Only He (the Lord) can take care of our children’s needs. And saying that now, I realize that I never did that with you guys. And I ask your forgiveness. And the Lord’s. But I’m doing it now and praying that you can release Lucy, too.”
What an amazing mom she is to humbly write of her weakness so that I may learn from her.
As the Lord continues to convict me, I am reminded I need to daily surrender Lucy to the Lord. Daily. One day I think I have surrendered her and the next she gets a cold; once again I am fretting. So once again, I must surrender her to God. You see every good and perfect gift comes from God (James 1:17). So Lucy isn’t mine to begin with; she’s the Lord’s. He has entrusted her to me, but she’s still the Lord’s. So daily I must surrender her and trust the Lord loves her far more than I ever could, and I must remember, regardless of whatever happens to her, God is still good. I am to be the best mother I can be to the glory of God, but I am not Lucy’s end all, be all. One day, Lord willing, she will leave my husband’s and my household to go live on her own. So the sooner I practice daily surrender, the better off I’ll be down the road.
To help me in this endeavor I constantly quote Philippians 4:4-7. “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (ESV)
By being anxious (or fretting), I am not adding a single day to my life and certainly not Lucy’s life (Matthew 6:27). Rather I am robbing myself of rejoicing in the Lord fully and robbing myself of Christ’s peace.
So this Mother’s Day, let’s surrender together—new moms and old—and let us rejoice in the Lord, praying with great thanksgiving.
-Laura
