By Moriah Steiner 
The scene is unfolding in slow motion, yet reeling out of control all at the same time. Voices raised, eyes rolled, doors slammed, and big crocodile tears. An exasperated, heavy and long sigh escapes, though the rest of you stays put, feet grounded, with nowhere to go. Today looks nothing like you imagined it. The good work that you do seems to goes unnoticed and the effort that you put in to bear good fruit has not yet seemed to produce some ripe and fulfilling goodness. The children that you love to the moon and back and hold most dear seem to be burying you under the weight of their responsibility and care.
Maybe you think that part of their purpose is to keep you grounded. To keep you from soaring too high. From chasing the dreams that seem too far- fetched. From running with spread wings, open arms, and bright eyes to the spaces of quiet and longing and searching. Maybe they are meant to, in part, keep you in the place where reality holds true and you can taste and see, and truly feel the realness of the world in every moment.
You hide in the bathroom as your heart pounds more quickly than it should. You take slow, deep breaths. Try to calm the frustration that inevitably comes. The frustration that things are not going as you planned. The frustration that no one is listening. No one is playing on their own. No one is helping pick up the toys. And everywhere there are signs of work undone, shouting your failures louder than your children’s cries, while continually piling up until you feel buried under it all. Buried under the realness. Buried under the taste of bitterness, the sight of grime and dirt, and the feeling of a slow suffocation of your soul and the way you thought things were supposed to be.
But child, (for you are His child) the weight is too heavy for you to carry alone. There is no need to dig your own grave, for death has already been conquered. While at times you may feel grounded and buried in the reality and responsibilities of your days as you raise littles, maybe what those sweet children are actually doing is helping you soar. Helping you soar and reach higher towards the One that made you and chose you to mother the children that are in your care. These children call you to a reality that is rooted in the goodness and grace of our dear, sweet Savior.
2 Corinthians 12:9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.
A grace that beckons us and draws us close, inviting us to rest in the knowledge that He is enough and because of this, we are enough. The sweet, sweet sound of His amazing grace keeps playing the tune on repeat that He has conquered the grave and we can choose joy in Him each day. He has gifted us the greatest gift of all and all He asks us to do is dwell deeply in this knowledge and live it out each day.
He invites us to not feel buried and overwhelmed in the reality of motherhood. He invites us to a hope rooted in joy amongst a reality where sticky messes and runny noses lurk around every corner. Where choosing joy is hard and easy at the same time. He invites us into the freedom of grace where we can soar high in His steadfast love.
Draw close to Him as you chart unknown territories and navigate rough waters. Continue the good work to bear fruit in the little lives that you have been burdened with, and by burdened, I mean the best possible kind of burdened. A burdened heart that is filled so fully with love, hopes, dreams, and prayers that it is full to the brim and ready to overflow and outpour in drops and bucketful’s. And when your heart feels as if it has been emptied out at the end of the day (or earlier depending on what kind of day it is) turn towards the only one that can fill you up and once again burden your heart with a deep, immeasurable, and awesome love.
3 John 1:4 I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.
Lean in and He will fill you full, don’t try to carry your burden alone. When the grave pulls you down, reach to the cross and cling to it.
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