There are days that the responsibilities of motherhood, wifedom and housekeeper are suffocating. There isn’t any one thing about each of those roles that is depleting, but the fact that there will always be clothes to fold, dishes to wash, tubs to scrub, projects to collaborate on, emotional needs to be met…There is no stop button on the spin cycle in the near future. I don’t divulge these struggles for the purpose of self-pity or whining. Yet, to recognize that without the ability to push the stop button, there has to be another answer.
I woke up early this morning needing some solitude and time to be alone with Jesus and a cup of French vanilla flavored coffee. I switched the laundry and began a new load. I fixed my cup of coffee, shut the doors to our office, sat down in my study chair, took two sips of coffee and my youngest opened the office door, sat down in my lap, covered himself up with my blanket and went to sleep. I know I should have seen this as a sweet momma moment that is fleeting, but I was ravenously craving solitude and the arms of Jesus wrapped around me. Silencing the shouting voices of injustice in my head, I set down my coffee, texted a friend on the east coast who wrestles with protecting her own early mornings (because I needed empathy), wrapped my arms around my baby boy and rested my chin on his blonde haired head.
I began crying out to the Lord. I needed Him in that moment; the same way Cale needed me. Lord, just as the Psalmist pleaded in chapter 91:4, I am pleading with you to cover me with your feathers. Shelter me with your wings, Jesus. I know you are faithful to your promises and that they are my armor and my protection.
I was sharing with a group of women last week about the story in Matthew 14:22-33 where Jesus walks on water before He calms the whipping winds beating against the disciples’ boat. The foot note in my Bible revealed that the storm had caused the waves to pound the sides of the boat for at least nine hours. A devotional I read, pointed out, “We want Christ to hurry and calm the storm. He wants us to find Him in the midst of it first.”
Abba, the weight of this world’s demands slowly steals life from my lungs. Yet, I know that you are the giver of life. I want you to silence the demands of my obligations and the brokenness that screams from my depraved heart. You want me to recognize you as “I Am,” in lieu of all that I am not.