Christmas is a hectic time for all parents. Here author Mirette Abraham explains the value of rest for mums.
It’s okay to need a breather. It doesn’t make you less. It doesn’t diminish your value. If anything, that minute adds to your value. It’s in that minute, that moment of utter hopelessness and pure defeat, you finally see the help you need. In that minute, you can grasp just how much you need Him to intervene, and only then are you able to surrender. You surrender your pain. You surrender your fears. You surrender your will.
Because in that minute, where you sit in a silence, void of all the fight that brought you here, you finally see your need for him. You need him to take full control, because trying to maintain control of everything and everyone has proven too big a feat. You can’t do it alone, and in that minute, you know he can. You realise that this is your rock bottom, and it’s in that minute, in your weakness, that he swoops in and proves his strength — yet again. But he needs us to get to that minute so that we can see him.
Amid the chaos, the yelling, the tears, and the tantrums, we don’t see him standing there, waiting for us. He waits for us to look to him as our source of peace and calm through the tumultuous day. But we soldier on, thinking that this is what we were meant to do. We feel that our value lies in how much we can do and solve for those who look to us for answers, but in all that doing, we lose sight of our true calling.
In that minute, where you sit in a silence, void of all the fight that brought you here, you finally see your need for him.
Yes, we’re mamas—modern heroines for the littlest and loudest people. But above that, we are his. We are his daughters and his love. We are allowed to feel worn out, because in our defeat awaits a Father wanting to restore us each day so we can continue to spread his love and light. We are allowed to feel clueless, because in our lack of answers awaits a King who sees and knows all and longs for us to call on him.
We are allowed to take a minute, because in our pit of weakness awaits a Saviour whose strength is perfected in us—if we are in that minute. “He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” ~ 2 Corinthians 12:9–10
Give yourself permission to have a breather, to take a minute to find your calm in the middle of your chaos. And if that calm seems to drift further away the more you try, open the door for healing. Coming to the realisation that what I was experiencing in the trenches of my motherhood was deeper than the ordinary chaos and the typical “blues,” felt like a moment of defeat. I was in denial for so long, and after running further away from the truth, I found myself in an incredibly unfamiliar terrain, where I felt so disconnected from myself, my family and God. The months that followed my awakening were filled with such sweetness. God allowed me to start recognising him in the small things around me, when all I was able to do before then was appreciate his supposed absence. In my healing, I found him again. Just like the Samaritan woman, God started meeting me where I was; in my place of deep hurt and pain.
We’re mamas—modern heroines for the littlest and loudest people. But above that, we are his.
He left blooms for me along the road that led back to him. The closer I got to healing, the warmer he felt. His sweet embrace turned my pain to glory and transformed me completely. When all I could appreciate was darkness around me for so long, I had forgotten what everything around me looked like in the light. In that light, I found joy, hope, grace, and love. So much love.
Healing was worth it. Healing is worth it. Mama, can you see God at work right now? Or has your chaos been holding your heart captive and silenced his loving voice? Take a deep breath, embrace yourself in this minute, and allow him into your here. He meets us where we are, and nothing… no illness, no trial, no sadness, no anxiety, no depression, no pain, can separate us from his love (Romans 8:38-39).
Mirette’s book Mama, I See You: Finding Glimmers of Hope in the Trenches of Motherhood is available now.