Don’t worry, it gets better.
Says the well-meaning older mom with teen children, while I struggle with my two screaming kids at the grocery store.Says the Instagram caption, with two older boys doing their homework.
Says the Grandpa, holding his newborn grandchild.
The first few times I heard this my soul was satisfied. It gets better, really? Oh, praise the Lord!
I found myself daydreaming about those days. It will be better soon! My kids will be sleeping more. I won’t be so needed all the time; and definitely not as drained.
But then I started realizing how dangerous these thoughts, and the words I was reading, really were.
It doesn’t get better than this. If I am not satisfied in today, who is to say I will be satisfied tomorrow? Who came up with the idea that a 1-year-old and 3-year-old were agony to care for? And how are a five and seven-year-old easier, exactly?
What does that even mean?
And really at the end of the day, how is telling me it gets better really any help? I have years to go until things “get better.” That’s a long time to wait for the better days. Especially if I want to have more kids. Maybe I should stop where I’m at so I can get to those better days sooner.
But the truth is there are no better days. Our hope is not in two years from now. Or when I’m retired and my kids aren’t at home anymore. My hope is today. And when I am weary I look to Jesus, and he gives me strength. When I am tired I rest in the knowledge that I am raising up children for His kingdom.
And the real truth is, I delight in my kids. I rejoice in the tiny laughter and the happy smiling faces of my precious girls. I would hate to look back on these years and wish I had cherished them rather than wishing them away.
We can always wish for something “better,” but I truly believe we will just be wishing our lives away, and that’s no way to live.