So God Made a Mother Collection ➔

As I walked out the door, I frantically made a mental check of the amount of money in my wallet to be sure I would be able to buy a coffee. A sense of dread clouded my thoughts and I reminded myself,

“I cannot feel the way I did yesterday.”

Can. Not.

Coffee seems like the very first step in securing my position in my all-out war against yesterday’s enemy, so I soothe myself with the thought that I will have caffeine in my veins soon.

Yesterday, I did not feel depressed. I didn’t feel bitter or angry.

No, I faced the ultimate state of defeat for any woman: I was tired.

T-i-r-e-d. Like couldn’t hold my eyes open. Like couldn’t even stand up to do dishes.

I know . . . to be tired is to be human. That’s the problem. It might have been allergies or lack of sleep, but no matter the cause, my tiredness was just an ugly reminder that I can’t do it all. No matter how hard I work or strive or pretend, I am a limited human being with limited capacity.

In short, I am not God.

I know this, intellectually. But the driving forces inside me say “BE MORE. DO MORE. ACCOMPLISH MORE. WORK HARDER. Are you even working at all?! What have you done all day? Why are you tired? What is wrong with you?”

I was so relieved when my daughter had a two-hour delay this morning. As I rolled over to change my alarm to a later time, I already had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Think of the things you could get done in that time! The laundry, the dishes, the bedrooms, Bible reading. So instead of being thankful for the extra sleep, I laid my head back down in shame and regret.

RELATED: This is Why Moms Are So Exhausted 

I’m addicted to efficiency. In fact, I kind of don’t want to be sitting here writing this right now.

It feels wasteful. It feels like there are literally 10,000 other tasks more important than sitting at my husband’s laptop, surrounded by toys, dirty dishes, and laundry piles waiting for my attention.

In desperation, I cry out to God.

How am I supposed to change the world AND wash the dishes?

How could I raise good kids AND keep their laundry folded?

How on earth am I supposed to live out my calling from You outside these walls AND turn my home into the sanctuary You’ve given me the vision for?

And, most painfully, Why does it seem so easy for other women? What am I missing?

I claim to be following gentle Jesus, meek and mild, but then live as if the Jesus I mold myself after is Tony Robbins or some other high-energy, loudspeaker, non-stop movement of a human being.

And I feel not enough.

Not charismatic enough.

Not organized enough.

Not kind enough, friendly enough, likable enough.

Not bold enough.

Not doing enough for God.

Not put-together enough.

But what if the rest Jesus promised in Matthew 11:28 is for me, not just the pretend woman in my head who already has all her housework done?

What if the promise of an abundant life isn’t loopholed in a contract that says my to-do list has to be done first?

What if God still loves His daughters, even if their “room” isn’t clean?

Psalm 116 says:  “Now I can say to myself and to all, ‘Relax and rest, be confident and serene, for the Lord rewards fully those who simply trust in him.”

Hear that?! We can say to ourselves “Relax. Rest. Be confident and serene. Simply trust Him.”  

Psalm 116 says: “So now, what can I ever give back to God to repay him for the blessings he’s poured out on me? I will lift up His cup of salvation and praise Him extravagantly for all that he’s done for me.”

So that’s all that’s on my agenda for today. Lifting up His cup of salvation and praising Him extravagantly for all He’s done for me.

Lord, I lift all these women up to You. There are so many demands, so many things pulling for our attention. Some of them matter and some of them don’t. Please help us know the difference!

Remind us that nothing disqualifies us from walking with You except for sin, and You say that if we turn and confess every unrighteousness You are faithful and just to forgive.

All of this we ask in the beautiful name of Jesus. Amen!

This post originally appeared on the author’s blog

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Morgan Massey

A former teen mom & recovering perfectionist, Morgan writes to give unexpected hope to other women drowning in anxiety, depression, motherhood, or just...life.  She lives in Indiana with her family.  

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