So there I was, having a rough night and lamenting to my friend, asking, “When is God going to send me someone??” Boohoo… Rather than further exhaust my poor friend with my pitiful life-woos, I decided to go pray about it. I am so glad I did.
After about thirty minutes of pleading my case to God, I admitted to Him that I was also jealous of how other people can pray the way I only wish I could. Then I remembered a picture someone posted today that said, “No shortcuts exist. The person who would know God must give time to Him.”
Suddenly, it hit me like a ton of bricks: Why would God bless someone whom He doesn’t even know? Sure, He knows of me. I go to church every service and sing in the choir. My kids go to the church school, and I pay tithes. I go to prayer meetings and church workdays. But does He know me?
I don’t particularly like doing outreach. There, I said it. I can be painfully timid when talking to strangers and attempting to witness. Some people are great at it, and if that’s you, Lord bless you. Because I don’t enjoy outreach, I feel as though I am failing to do my part in the great commission.
I have been struggling for the past ten years or so with feeling like an imposter. I know that on June 7, 2011, God filled me with the Holy Ghost with the evidence of speaking in tongues. However, for whatever reason, I’ve rarely been able to speak/pray in tongues since the initial month or so. The capability quite literally disappeared one day; it seems.
When I try to pray, thoughts like “You don’t have the Holy Ghost”, “You aren’t saved”, “You’re not like everyone else”, “If you die, you’re going to hell”, “You’re a fake Apostolic” … and more run through my head. Only my pastor and a handful of others know about this issue until now. Maybe this will help someone to know that you are not alone if this is your struggle too.
I was in prayer today when the thought of my parents came into my spirit. I thank God they are now friends after 40 years of no communication. Suddenly a well of thankfulness rose up in me, and I began to weep. You see, my parents divorced when I was two; and my whole life, I have no memory of them even speaking to each other–let alone being in the same room.
I started my day off feeling like a failure. How’s your morning going? Back on July 4th, I realized there was exactly 180 days until the end of the year. I had the idea to use these 180 days to “do a 180o” and transform my life. I deleted all social media apps from my phone and determined to spend more time in prayer, fasting, and reading the Word.
I was pumped for a little while. You know how it is when you get a new piece of exercise equipment and use it every day? Then every other day… maybe twice a week… when the mood strikes? Yeah, that’s how my 180o is going. At first, I would wake up early to pray before work and pray each night before bed. I would read my Bible and books on prayer or listen to sermons. I looked forward to fasting once a week and spending more time with God.
But lately, when my alarm goes off in the morning, I just roll over and go back to sleep. Sometimes I pray that day, sometimes I don’t. I listen to the Bible App read the Word to me, but sometimes I’m thinking about other things. My weekly fast has lost its appeal. That extra time with God has often been replaced by playing games on my phone. It only took three weeks to slip back into my old routine, and I feel like a failure.
I have seen and heard this expression many times in the last few years. I usually think to myself that God must really like spending time with me, since I feel lonely much of the time. Then tonight, I felt like God said to me, “Maybe you wouldn’t feel so lonely if you spent more time with Me to begin with.”
What kind of mom sometimes gives up on making dinner because her kids snack too much beforehand then never eat it anyway?
What kind of mom buys her kids treats at the grocery store even though they misbehaved so she doesn’t have to endure the meltdown if she says no?
What kind of mom sets limits on screen time then ignores it because she is finally able to take a bath in peace?
What kind of mom buys her kids clothes and toys then complains when they are strewn all over the living room?
What kind of mom makes the kids go outside and play so she can clean the house but ends up scrolling through social media?
What kind of mom takes her kids to the park but only stays for thirty minutes because she’s too doggone cold?
What kind of mom tries so hard to be perfect and cries because she knows she’ll never get there?
What kind of mom has overwhelming fears that she may be ruining her kids?
A good mom. A normal mom. A mom like me. I have done every single one of these things at some point. I know you have heard it before, but I’ll say it again: “The fact that you worry if you’re a good mom is proof that you are one.” Why? A bad mom wouldn’t care one way or the other.
Motherhood is hard. We are accountable for raising moral, responsible, well-mannered adults, and it’s a twenty-four-hour job. It’s even more difficult if you’re doing it alone, like me. I constantly feel like I’m failing. But when I tuck them into bed every night to hugs and kisses and “I love you mom”- I know I must be doing something right.
As long as the good outweighs the bad and the happy outweighs the sad, they will grow up and be glad… they have a great mom. A mom like you.
I’ve been wanting to write something for a while now. Sometimes, I feel I don’t have anything worthwhile to say. Experts say when you have writer’s block, the best thing to do is just write. Odd how that works. So here I am just writing whatever comes to mind- assuming something will.