Secret Confession: A Season?

I confess, being a mother of two children has proven nearly as difficult as I feared during my pregnancy. I am pleased to say that it is not AS difficult as I thought it would be, but close.
Lately I've really struggled with the drudgery and thanklessness of caring for two children's seemingly endless needs. In my heart I complain and long for time to myself. I SO look forward to my moments of "freedom," when I can leave the house sans children and fully expect to come home feeling refreshed and more able to cope with the demands of my new life. Usually my refreshed feeling lasts about fifteen minutes until I'm getting pulled in ten different directions and quickly become overwhelmed. I often feel like I am just barely keeping my head above water in the giant Lake of Too Much (just north of the the bustling city of Overwhelmington--in Canada).
I think that's just how it's going to be for a little while. Emphasis on little. I know this is just a season and that I am serving God by seeking to raise my children in his ways even when I don't think I can deal with potty training or colic or 5am feedings or discipline for ONE. MORE. MINUTE.
Oswald Chambers says this on the matter:
No one is born either naturally or supernaturally with character; it must be developed. Nor are we born with habits— we have to form godly habits on the basis of the new life God has placed within us. We are not meant to be seen as God’s perfect, bright-shining examples, but to be seen as the everyday essence of ordinary life exhibiting the miracle of His grace. Drudgery is the test of genuine character. The greatest hindrance in our spiritual life is that we will only look for big things to do. Yet, “Jesus . . . took a towel and . . . began to wash the disciples’ feet . . .” ( John 13:3-5).
We all have those times when there are no flashes of light and no apparent thrill to life, where we experience nothing but the daily routine with its common everyday tasks. The routine of life is actually God’s way of saving us between our times of great inspiration which come from Him. Don’t always expect God to give you His thrilling moments, but learn to live in those common times of the drudgery of life by the power of God.

If I hope to raise Fishers of Men, I guess I shouldn't complain (whether outwardly or inwardly) about washing my children's feet. I'm not going to get it all right. I know that. But I AM committed to doing my best at loving my children and husband in a godly way...I guess sometimes I just need to remind myself of the ultimate goal.

Previous experience not required.

Several times in the last six or so years I've really gotten slammed by other Christian women with regard to my new (to me) roles as wife and mother.
I remember very distinctly an excited conversation I was having with a "more experienced" sister-woman-friend about shopping for engagement rings with Richard. Another "more experienced" woman piped up, "Shopping for rings? Yeah, that's when life really begins."
Now, she's not wrong, shopping for rings isn't exactly life and death, but it was a big deal to me--it marked a major change in the path of my life. Could she not identify with this? I believe she supports the institution of marriage and was once a young bride herself. So, would it have killed her to congratulate me? Wish me luck in my future marriage? Offer to support me in some non-offensive way?
I've endured a LOT more criticism now that I'm a mommy. I'm sure you know what it's like (if you're a mother)...snide, passive-aggressive comments about my and Richard's choices with Shirley Jean, you've all been there. "If you think you're blank now..." (I'm breaking out in hives just typing it.)
One memory that comes to mind was when SJ was just about six months old. I was joking with a "more experienced" sister-woman-friend about how wonderful it would be to sleep all the way through the night in a bed all to myself (a pipe dream that makes me salivate even now). A mother of four or five or seventeen whom I had never before met chimed in, "How many children do you have?" "Just one," I said. "Oh, poor you!" she rolled her eyes.
This is a relatively mild example...I've heard and read some downright nasty things about myself since Shirley was born, but the point is, REALLY???
Aren't we supposed to be building each other up? No, wait. Scratch that. Aren't YOU, "more experienced" sister-woman-friends supposed to be building ME up? Helping me to become a better wife and mother? Dare I say it: A Titus 2 Woman? Offering wisdom in a kind, non-humiliating way? The scrutiny and criticism I've endured, mostly from Christians, truly, is the reason I hardly blog any more. I know I'm not alone on this, and I'm probably (Edit: Probably?? I'm sure of it.) guilty of hurting someone's feelings inadvertently by trying to make a joke, etc., but I really do make a conscious effort to NOT put somebody to shame.
Speaking of shame, the truth is, I've enjoyed more praise and encouragement from my non-Christian friends than most of my "more experienced" sister-woman-friends. This isn't right.
I guess what I'm learning is that in ten or so years when I'm done bearing my four or five or seventeen children, I really don't want to be the kind of "more experienced" woman who is too proud to NOT say to a young wife and mother, "I hear you. I've been there. I'm praying for you. You're doing a GREAT job! How can I help?"

Tomorrow is another day.

Today was just one of those days. One of those days when the voices of protagonists from my past come alive in my head. The kind of day that starts at 2am when Shirley wakes up screaming, holding her cheeks because her molars are coming in all at once. The kind of day that you go back to bed with the baby during her morning nap even though Richard let you sleep in already, and that protagonist, Mennifer Bial, calls you a loser and you believe her. The kind of day that you scald the baby's already tender mouth with Malt-o-Meal that you thought had cooled. Mennifer Bial calls you cruel and stupid. The kind of day that Mennifer Bial assures you that it really is a $7.99 haircut. And she reminds you that there's laundry waiting, dishes lurking and do you really want Richard to come home to find you wearing an undershirt with your hair a mess, glasses askew and by the way, Shirley is covered in Nutrigrain bar? The kind of day that only french fries will do and Mennifer Bial asks you if you want to be a size 12 again.
I'm not the only one, right?
Right?
I can't be the only one who can take an entire day off, maybe two, without doing anything. Without putting on a bra, without going anywhere, without eating anything before 3pm. I can't be the only one who lets the laundry go and the dishes pile up in the sink, hoping my husband won't notice. I can't be the only one visited by voices of protagonists-past. The only one with a complex about the truth.
Right?

In Two: My Own Lament

Warning: This post contains the ugly contents of my heart.

An unexpected song that I had never heard brought me to my knees tonight in the car.
I don't know why, but I guess I thought I was the only one who had the power to tear her husband apart with her words.
I know there are exceptions to this rule, but many men are not able to do as much damage as quickly as I can, and with as little effort. Certainly not Richard.
And why don't we talk about it? When was the last time I said to a girlfriend, "I disrespected my husband today and tore him down in a way that only I can."? I so desire to banish this sort of thing from my attitude toward the man I married, but still, I snarl and snap without thinking twice. More often than I care to admit.
And it's just so commonplace to humiliate and belittle. Women do it ALL. THE. TIME. After it happens, I am embarrassed and disgusted, and have to seek forgiveness from my husband, but still, I'll do it again. Why can't I control my tongue? I long to use my words to build him up--not tear him down.

Here's the song that touched me so much tonight. It's something to think about, anyway:

In Two (The Lament), by Jennifer Knapp
Finish up your coffee, love
it's getting cold
let's finish up this fight tonight
before the sun draws nigh and I'm old

Have mercy on me I'm a girl
though I'm cruel and you cry
I won't shiver cause I know how to break a man
I know how to break a man in two

Still you're suffering, my love
o, who's to blame?
you might be tired,
but I'm not through fanning the flame

Have mercy on me I'm a girl
though I'm cruel and you cry
I won't shiver cause I know how to break a man
I know how to break a man in two

o, by the tiding of my tounge
I lie and sing what can't be unsung
my soul torn in two by the things I say to
you by the things that I say

I know how to break us man, in two

Nets

(19)“Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will make you fishers of men.”
(20) At once they left their nets and followed him.
-Matthew 4:19-20

I'm not sure if many of you have noticed, but I haven't had much to say lately.
I've been in a bit of a funk.
I confess, lonliness, sadness and fear have been my frequent companions here at home.
I knew what was bothering me, but not why it was bothering me so much.
Shirley Jean is ready for solids. Rice cereal.
Now...this is not a big deal. I know. But for some reason, I am really struggling with this milestone. And now I think I know why.
Mid-breakdown tonight, I said to Richard, "I just didn't expect this to be so painful."
He said, "You didn't expect WHAT to be so painful?"
I said, "I watch her grow and change every day, and every day she is getting further away from me."
As I laid on our bed in a pile of tissues, I thought to myself, "God doesn't ever have to feel this way. It's not fair."
What a stupid thing to think. God watches us move further away from him all the time. Some very, very far. Some wander away and wander back. If doing my job as a mother is this agonizing...how much more must it hurt God when we insist on our independence from him? I mean, my job is to help her become independent from me and dependent on God, right?
I think God is allowing me to feel this pain as a reminder of his love for me. He wants me near and wholly dependent on him. He wants me inside of him, just like I long to put my little girl back inside of me where the pain of this broken world can't hurt her.
It further occurs to me that a Wife of Noble Character would not allow herself to be bogged down with sadness and anxiety only to waste time with her precious child. She does not eat the bread of idleness. Nor is she afraid--she can laugh at the days to come! A noble wife would find joy in the development of her thriving baby and celebrate the milestones that increase her independence so that she will one day go out into the world, fully dependent on God, and make fishers of men.
I hope I can remember what God has taught me tonight on that first day of school, on prom night, in her first dorm room, and on her wedding day.
I am caught in a net of my own creation. I will leave it behind and follow Him who so lovingly sustains me.
Will it get easier? I highly doubt it.

p.s. He is especially fond of you.

Noble Character

I was trying to look something up on eBible.com when I came across The Wife of Noble Character.

Proverbs 31:15 reads:

"She gets up while it is still dark;
she provides food for her family
and portions for her servant girls."
This verse has always been a source of spiritual consternation for me. I am not that woman, and it bothers me. Don't get me wrong. I work hard at being a good wife and mother, but I often wonder if I'm working hard enough, if I could be working harder.

I was mentally debating whether to commit this issue to God or not (read: Do I want to work on this or ignore it for as long as I can and only address the issue when it becomes absolutely necessary?) and decided to click on over to my old buddy Mr. Chambers.

The first line of today's devotion reads, "A [Christian] is not to take the initiative toward self-realization, but toward knowing Jesus Christ."

Self-serving? Perhaps. But it was a nice reminder of what my FIRST priority is, and, better yet, how God sees me mired in all my imperfections, through the loving eyes of a father. This is, quite possibly, the closest I have come to understanding who I am in Christ in a very long time.