I could tell you my personal testimony about my journey with Christ.

I could tell you that I accepted the Lord Jesus as my personal Savior at age six.

I could tell you I’m thankful to have been reared by two Jesus-loving parents.

I could tell you those parents raised me in church.

All thanks be to God.

I could tell you that I’ve been grateful to walk closely with Jesus most of my life.

I could tell you that I don’t have the stereotypical high school or college rebel story—though I’ve made my share of mistakes, that’s certain.

Again, nothing to do with me; all thanks be to God.

I could tell you that I’ve had natural highs and lows in following Jesus, times I’ve been more passionate than others, like any longstanding relationship.

I could tell you different occasions where I’ve struggled with sin and been forgiven.

I could tell you that I need God’s forgiveness because of my wayward nature.

I gossip, fail to forgive, criticize, judge, and battle earthly cravings.

My heart has been in the wrong place too many times to count.

But few things make me so desperately believe I need the grace of Jesus Christ like being a mom.

Desperate, face-to-the-floor, white-knuckled, I-need-You-Jesus.

It’s my most joyous and my most strenuous endeavor. 

I need You, Jesus.

It takes all of me and more.

I need You, Jesus.

I’m at the end of my rope, daily.

How I need You, Jesus.

It demands my nights, my weekends, and all of me, physically.

And the physical demand doesn’t compare to the emotional.

I need You, Jesus.

Rearing these little ones highlights my weaknesses on every level.

I see flaws in myself that I’ve never seen.

I see those flaws coming out in my children.

So much, I need You, Jesus.

I feel overstimulated and under-resourced.

Yet, I’m more peaceful and fulfilled than I’ve ever been.

What do I make of this emotional paradox?

I need You, Jesus.

I’m unable to fully protect my children from pain on this earth.

I need You, Jesus.

I fall woefully short of the perfect example.

I need You, Jesus.

My tone can be harsh.

My patience short.

My expectations exasperating.

I need You, Jesus.

I’m easily distracted from what matters, blinded by spilled milk, crushed Cheerios, and an increasing laundry pile.

I need You, Jesus.

I can be short-sighted, thinking I just need a moment.

But really, I just need You, Jesus.

My advice and parenting approach will often fall short.

I need You, Jesus.

Oh, I need You.

Only in You can I be the mom You called me to be.

Only with You can I do this mom thing.

Only by pointing to You can my kids see You working in me.

I need You, Jesus, because they need You, Jesus.

Originally published on the author’s blog

Paige Pippin

Hi, I'm Paige. I’m an attorney, blogger, wife, and mama. I’m mostly a social misfit. I'm the world's best hugger, and some of my friends hate me for it. I drink uncanny amounts of coffee. Jesus is my greatest adventure. Laughter is my medicine. Encouragement is my purpose. Let's be friends. Find me at paigepippin.com, on Facebook, or Instagram.