So today at church I did a hard thing - I told the truth about motherhood. And I did it with my husband in two services! Here is my part of today's message. (I am leaving out Stewart's part because I didn't write it, and after all, this is call the "One Minute Blog.") If you would like to hear the whole message, the podcast will be available by Tuesday here.
Finally, after years of trying and watching woman after woman get pregnant before you, you are expecting your miracle. And he comes. And he is perfect. You take him home from the hospital. But then you can’t leave the house for 6 weeks after he’s born! Next thing you know, it’s been 3 months, and you haven’t had an adult conversation with anyone other than your husband. You venture out of the house, only to hear other women talking about how perfect their children are and if your child doesn’t know Mandarin by now, he is behind, and “You know so-in-so’s grandchild who is only a couple months older than your baby? They already have him potty trained, and he just turned one!” And you fall deep into the comparison trap, where no one wins. And you’re alone again.
Your perfect baby starts growing up before your eyes, and you are doing your best to enjoy the journey. He’s cute and sweet and fun, and then he turns 18 months old. And no one told you that the terrible twos start at 18 months and last until 3. Then others start telling you how awful your child acted here and you have one day where you had to spank him 5 times. And you feel like the only person on earth who is having to deal with this. And you’re alone again.
Then your baby turns in to a human person. He or she is doing their own thing and just impressing the socks off of you from what they know and how fast they are learning. They are becoming independent beings apart from you. Then the world wants to know when you’re having number 2, because most of those who had babies around the time you did are. So you decide to have number 2. And then halfway through the pregnancy, you find out number 2 is going to be special needs. And that is the greatest lonely of all.
Second Corinthians 1:3-7 says: Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.
You start your motherhood journey expecting it to be
perfect. I mean picture perfect. You think your child will be model ready when
they emerge from the womb. This wonder child will never be a behavior problem.
He or she will just be perfection.
Or maybe you were like me - you didn't want kids at all, but your husband talked you into it. After all, MawMaw isn’t getting any younger. So maybe we should. You think you will get pregnant immediately because everyone else does. It takes a while, but you finally find out that you are expecting. You're so excited that you tell everyone – only have to go back a few weeks later and tell them that the baby is gone. You’ve had a miscarriage. All of a sudden, people start giving you Sunday School answers like, “Well, the Lord thought this baby wasn’t good enough for you,” or “God just needed another angel.” But you feel as if you’re going to die from the grief. Then you feel alone.
Or maybe you were like me - you didn't want kids at all, but your husband talked you into it. After all, MawMaw isn’t getting any younger. So maybe we should. You think you will get pregnant immediately because everyone else does. It takes a while, but you finally find out that you are expecting. You're so excited that you tell everyone – only have to go back a few weeks later and tell them that the baby is gone. You’ve had a miscarriage. All of a sudden, people start giving you Sunday School answers like, “Well, the Lord thought this baby wasn’t good enough for you,” or “God just needed another angel.” But you feel as if you’re going to die from the grief. Then you feel alone.
Finally, after years of trying and watching woman after woman get pregnant before you, you are expecting your miracle. And he comes. And he is perfect. You take him home from the hospital. But then you can’t leave the house for 6 weeks after he’s born! Next thing you know, it’s been 3 months, and you haven’t had an adult conversation with anyone other than your husband. You venture out of the house, only to hear other women talking about how perfect their children are and if your child doesn’t know Mandarin by now, he is behind, and “You know so-in-so’s grandchild who is only a couple months older than your baby? They already have him potty trained, and he just turned one!” And you fall deep into the comparison trap, where no one wins. And you’re alone again.
Your perfect baby starts growing up before your eyes, and you are doing your best to enjoy the journey. He’s cute and sweet and fun, and then he turns 18 months old. And no one told you that the terrible twos start at 18 months and last until 3. Then others start telling you how awful your child acted here and you have one day where you had to spank him 5 times. And you feel like the only person on earth who is having to deal with this. And you’re alone again.
Then your baby turns in to a human person. He or she is doing their own thing and just impressing the socks off of you from what they know and how fast they are learning. They are becoming independent beings apart from you. Then the world wants to know when you’re having number 2, because most of those who had babies around the time you did are. So you decide to have number 2. And then halfway through the pregnancy, you find out number 2 is going to be special needs. And that is the greatest lonely of all.
One of the greatest tactics the enemy uses against us
Moms is telling us that we are alone. We are the only person going through this
exact thing ever in the history of the universe. He convinces you that it’s
your fault your child doesn’t know Mandarin by a year old and it's your own
doing that your child is so "bad" when he's just acting his age.
Satan would love nothing more than to steal the joy of our motherhood because
he knows if he succeeds, the whole household will suffer, and he might possibly
pull you away from Christ. He does not want you to live the life God has
purposed for you. And Satan doesn’t just do that to moms. He does it to other
people, too. So this word for today is specifically for moms, but it’s for
everyone in here as well.
Second Corinthians 1:3-7 says: Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.
As you read the passage, you will see that we are to live in
a circle of comfort. The problem is that we get so deep into our pits of
loneliness and it's so dark in that pit that we can't see that there are others
in the pit with us. Or there may be others standing on the edge of the pit who
have climbed out who are waiting to help us. We also don’t see Jesus standing
right there beside us ready to comfort us and bring those into our lives who
can minister to us. We just need to look around. We need to be willing to
accept the help that God has placed all around us.
When we lost our first baby, there was a husband and wife in our church in Forestburg who wrote us the most touching letter about how they had had multiple miscarriages and how they got through that pain. The husband wrote to Stewart about how to help me through it. That is the circle of comfort.
When we lost our first baby, there was a husband and wife in our church in Forestburg who wrote us the most touching letter about how they had had multiple miscarriages and how they got through that pain. The husband wrote to Stewart about how to help me through it. That is the circle of comfort.
Since we found out Evan had Down’s, my best friend who lives
in Shreveport got me in touch with a family in her church who has a little boy
with Down’s. I cannot tell you how helpful she has been to me during this
journey, and we have only met each other one time in person. She has always
been available to answer any questions I have or offer support. That is the
circle of comfort.
Several years ago after Evan was born, the loneliness in me
got really tough. Yes, I had friends all around me, but I just didn’t feel like
I could really share what was going on in my heart with any of them. I didn’t
think they would get it. All of their children were “normal.” None of them were
dealing with the things with which I was having to deal. I began praying for
someone who would talk with me and understand. Someone who wouldn’t judge me.
Someone who would just get me. God answered that prayer in a huge way and sent me
not one but two friends with whom I can share my heart. That is the circle of
comfort.
I have been privileged to counsel a few ladies who have just
found out they were going to have babies with Down’s. It hasn’t been anything spectacular.
I have sent a few emails and made a few phone calls. It was nothing big, but
that is the circle of comfort.
In February at the Cenla March for Life, Stewart got to
share our story about Evan and how we chose life for him. There were thousands of
people at the march that day. The video was viewed 2,800 times. In that
sharing, the gospel went out. We don’t know who heard it or who may have
responded. But we pray it resulted in someone’s salvation.
Moms, we are not alone in our sufferings. We are not. Don’t
let the enemy tell you that you are. First, we have the God of all comfort
ready and willing to help us. Second, there is a circle around you if only you
will open your eyes and see it. Yes, we will have trouble. We have been
promised that. But our troubles make us ready to be that circle of comfort to
someone who is around us and maybe ultimately lead them to Christ. We were not
meant to be on an island of motherhood alone. God has provided exactly who we
need in every season of our lives.[i]
They are either right in front of us or they’re coming to us soon. We just need
to let the Spirit lead us to them or lead them to us.
So what does this produce in us? What is the point of the
trials of motherhood or any other trial of life? Paul says it is patient
endurance. Some of the commentators I read for this passage said that the word
for “comfort” which is used over and over again can mean “brave.[ii]”
Another said the word has the picture of a person who comes alongside another
person to encourage them when they are being severely tested.[iii]
Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be to each other? Isn’t that what the Holy
Spirit is to us as well? Then let’s be the circle of comfort to each other.
Mom, you are not alone. Your comfort is all around you.
 |
| Stewart and me in between services today. This was my first time to wear the headset mic! |
[i] Jennifer Ueckert, Craving
Connection, pg. 198.
[ii] William Barclay, The
Letters to the Corinthians, pg. 190.
[iii] Women of Faith
Study Bible, pg. 1900.
What a courageous and wholehearted and honest blog. THank you for being so brave.
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