Let the Weary Mothers Come
They say, “Marriage is hard.” They also say, “Parenting is harder.“
I’ll never forget the day I was lying on the couch, 36 weeks pregnant with twins — overwhelmed, tired, excited, terrified — thinking about all of the things they say. They say, “Sleep now! Because pretty soon you certainly won’t get any rest!” … ”My, my, my, you will have your hands full!” … ”Spend time with your husband now, because it will never be the same.” Why was their voice the loudest in my thoughts? Were these the voices that God wanted me to consider when I was on the cusp of my greatest life transition?
You see, I had never been a parent before, much less a twin mom, so all of my planning and preparing at this point was theoretical. One of the biggest tension points I was wrestling with was how to navigate church on the weekend. They would say a well-planned and kept-to schedule would dictate the overall happiness of my children. So, I would think of each day as a complex puzzle with individual pieces being things like naps, meals, diaper changes, and playtime. All of these pieces had to fit together perfectly to complete the puzzle of the whole day. I knew I could spend Monday-Friday carefully clicking together these pieces, nurturing my boys through the implementation of a well-thought-out schedule. But on Sunday, all those pieces would get thrown back in the box, and that box would be shaken with complete disregard for my well-intentioned labor. I knew this would be a very difficult, reoccurring shakeup for our ministry-packed weekend lifestyles.
Would it be worth it? Is the battle worth fighting? They would say it’s not. It would be so much easier to just stay home, to step back from church and ministry for a season, or to establish a routine and stick to it.
And then, as I lay on the couch, the Lord, in His kindness and grace, breathed life into my worry, reminded me of His accessible strength, and gave me new Gospel-motivation through a particular article I read. As I read this article, I could sense my perspective quickly and radically shifting. The disruption of Sunday is good. This disruption is sanctification. This disruption is an opportunity for Jesus to shake the box, reveal the cracks in my plan, and piece together the wholly-satisfying purpose of His.
This quote from the author, Megan Hill, was my perspective-shifter:
“Sundays may mean disrupted naps and delayed meals, but our children are trading earthly provision for something far better for their undying souls. On Sundays, everything is rearranged so that they might hear the Word proclaimed in the power of the Spirit. On Sundays, every ordinary thing takes a lesser place in favor of ‘the one thing necessary’ (Luke 10:42).“
In another spot of this article, she writes:
"For our children, too, the disruption of Sunday is a chance to remember that even our schedules are under the Lord’s authority. Once a week, the Lord breaks into our routine and reminds us that naptimes and snacktimes are not ultimate, nor are they determined by our own desires. In all things, we serve the Lord.”
Wow.
Parenting is really hard. And as each day passes, I am more convinced that my boys are super inconvenient. Yes, you read that right. They are absolute disruptions to my life. They disrupt my self-centered, schedule-keeping, Marie Kondo-ed, aesthetic-seeking life. But there are greater things at stake. Eternal things — glory revealing things. And Sundays help me remember that.
Most Sundays, I come stumbling in, desperate for encouragement, community, or a fresh reminder of God’s character and grace. But this is what I know: my children may sometimes see me struggling to make it to church, but they will see me prioritize it. Meltdowns may be seconds away, as lunch and nap times are pushed off, but as a family, we will say with certainty that our time gathered as the body of Christ was worth it. And like Megan Hill writes, “For the rest of their lives, they would know that Mommy and Daddy brought them to Jesus. For the rest of their lives, they would be changed because the Lord took them in his arms and interceded for their souls.”
So, let the little children come.
Let the weary mothers come.