why you’ve got to remind yourself to breathe: and tell your raw heart (over and over again) that you have what it takes.
I didn’t know that watching mama board that plane back home would hit me like a ton of bricks. Because as a new mama keeping company with an old mama lets your heart beat a little easier. It helps you fill the gap of the things you don’t know about mamahood. It hides you from the call of courage that you fear you may be unworthy to answer.
I stare at my Iyanu-girl and the first question that hits me before I even remember to breathe is this: do you have what it takes?
Do I know how to soothe my crying baby, without having mama walk in the room to throw her on her soothing back and like a miracle she falls into her peaceful sleep. Do I have what it takes to play with her, laugh with her, love on her. Honest, I wasn’t sure I would be okay alone with her. Would I even be enough for her? Would I be enough to mother my own daughter?
I walk into our home holding Iyanu to my chest and everything around me swirls and I right crashed into tears. My heart was all kinds of messy as I’m quickly reminded that really it is just us. Mr. Steady has said ‘yes’ to a call we couldn’t refuse. A call we’d waited more than a year for. And then it’s finally come. But it means ‘yes’ to a hard season that will have us more physically apart than together. ‘Yes’ to a call we wanted and prayed for, but has it come at a good time? Perhaps a God-time. Our ‘yeses’ change everything. They call us to a place of complete surrender. They break us for more light to come in…
I quickly exhale: “it’s all just for a little while…” Because sometimes, you’ve got to begin the fight before the enemy brings the fight to you. You’ve got to shake off your own thoughts before the enemy comes in like a flood.
What do you do when his lies seem to carry some weight? Why do we believe when he spits: you’re alone. You’re a mess. You are not enough. You cannot possibly think you can do this? You will drown…
I try to drown him out. But this weight.
But it may just be pure grace, this weight. That pushes you to the end of yourself. To where you are all kinds of breaking. Just for more light. For Him to come in…
This weight of feeling less-than. Of believing that really I may not be enough. I may be out of my depth. That I may not be the mama I think I’m capable of being. That I may not be the mama she sees.
Iyanu-girl looks right at me. Her eyes beady. And it’s what I love most about her gaze. It’s as though she sees right through me. Right past my insecurities. Right past all my fears. And then she breaks into that toothless smile and I am completely undone.
Holding my gaze I see through her eyes how she does see a worthy mama. An enough-mama. A not-in-anyway-perfect mama yet upon whose chest she feels perfectly safe. Peaceful & loved.
Isn’t that it with our God. Who perfectly entrusts mama-hood to a not-perfect vessel. Entrusts assignments to weak people. Entrusts messages to voiceless people. To unnamed people. To unworthy people. To underdogs. To unqualified people. To castoffs and outcasts. Isn’t that how we the Gentiles were invited in. Given a seat at His table. Unworthy us. Called to worthy things. Worthy places. Before the King.
Isn’t this the gospel? That where nothing abounds He comes in with His Everything! He stands in every gap.
And just like that: our fears are drowned in perfect love.
Perfect love. Love that keeps calling us to just show up to receive enabling grace.
And I just want to know: is this what Paul means “to glory in my weakness?” Could it be that this is what gives me glorious access to His Strength?
Could it be that the sooner I come to the end of myself. Raise my hands and embrace my limitations, this is when I invite Him to come and begin His Great works in and through me?
Is this what it means when He answers; “My strength is made perfect in your weakness.” That there’s sufficient grace. That makes it okay to be weak. (2 Corinthians 12:9). That I couldn’t possibly drown. That I am not out of my depth? Because I can do all things through Him if I would just put all these things on Him? This weight? That I was never designed to carry on my own.
This juxtaposition of our faith. All our weakness locking arms with His Strength.
And maybe that’s all I really need to know. What my little wonder-girl needs to see me live daily. Showing up knowing that I will be met by grace. Maybe having what it takes begins with knowing it’ll never be by your strength. Maybe it’s surrendering soon enough for Him tolock arms with you and do great things through you.
Iyanu pulls at my blouse. She wants to nurse.
Maybe like the milk we produce when we have a suckling child. It only comes when there’s a child at your breast. Supply only comes when there’s demand. Grace comes alongside you when you make enough room. When you say your; yes! over and over again!