A Wife Loved Like The Church

Can I just say single moms amaze me? Never, ever could I raise Julia without Jonathan. I can’t even begin to fathom the idea. Kinda like the thought of eternity, my mind just can’t grasp it.

Jonathan makes me laugh. A lot. He has a sense of humor that is completely off the wall, and fits me to a tee. One of the greatest things about him, is that he usually sees a funnier side to things. He is willing to be a goof in order to lighten up the situation. He laughs even if something really isn’t funny, but it forces you to see just how ridiculous the something was to begin with.

In my opinion, an essential part of mothering is having a father who fathers. A man who doesn’t care that he’s worked all day, that his favorite NBA team is playing, that he has read Goodnight Moon a million times this week, but is willing to show love to his kids.

I didn’t have the best relationships with my dad or stepdad. I don’t recall having consistency between us, and even to this day I feel a little awkward talking on the phone, or even in person, to my dad. I was always envious of those girls who had the dad of all dads. You know the ones, they got flowers signed “Love, Dad”, had daddy-daughter dates, or received phone calls “from dad, just saying I love you.”

But I have to admit, Jonathan makes up to Julia, what I lacked in a father. He delights in her, takes pride in her, and down right thinks she’s the greatest thing since sliced bread. He truly is a daddy.

God’s foundation of family is meant to stay complete. Death, of course, does separate it. But over the past century divorce has moved in at an alarming rate, tearing families apart, separating daughters from daddies, sons from mothers. And in this, a lot of joy has been robbed from moms, who now find themselves faced with single parenting. The biggest problem is, women alone can’t raise a child. Sure, I spend more time with Julia, and in some ways know her better. But Jonathan is essential in her life. At times, even more than me. 

So, for all us married with children, let’s rejoice in our spouses! Let us thank God for the man that he gave us. Let us find joy in knowing that even if they absolutely HATE changing those poopy diapers, they absolutely LOVE us and our children.

Do you have reoccurring dreams? Ones that keep coming back over and over. Maybe the scene changes, but the plot stays the same? I found a few months into Julia’s life that I dreamt every night about her crying. The dream itself was different (the location, the people, the situation), but one thing was always the same: Julia was crying. I remember telling my sister, Shelly, that I literally could not get a break from this girl. She cried in my conscience and subconscious. 

Last April we were in the throws of a nearly two month battle of crying-it-out. One night I awoke to screaming for the third or fourth time in mere hours. I can recall thinking “Seriously, God, what do you want? I will literally do anything for Julia to sleep.” His response? Grace.

Grace is a tricky thing. Everyone wants it, no one wants to give it. 

When someone is upset with me because of something I have done, I will go to great lengths to fix the problem. This is especially true of my close relationships. I will push and push, but if I actually do send someone over the edge, I am frantic to mend the situation, even if that involves groveling on my part. But, boy watch out if I’m the one pushed. I’ll remind you of that time way back when, when you forgot to call to say you were running late and so we missed the previews at the movie. I mean, come on, the previews are my favorite part of going to the movies. You are so, so unloving. I will grace you not.  

Kids need lots of grace. They are little sinners, acting on what comes best to man – sinning. Now that doesn’t mean that they should be allowed to act on every single impulse that comes to mind. No. But, at the same time as a mom, I should remember that Julia is only 15 months. Of course she’s going to meltdown. Of course she’s going to boycott the same food she loved just this morning. Of course she is going to fail, over and over again.  No reason to get upset when a toddler acts like, well, a toddler. *Disclaimer: Just cause I say it, doesn’t mean I always practice it. Many, many times I get frustrated that Julia is acting like a toddler. Especially when it’s over an issue we’ve dealt with (and I thought we understood) a hundred times… in one hour.

We walk in amazing grace with our Father. I mean, in all reality I deserve hell. Literally. I am challenged to allow my daughter to feel like she walks in the same grace in our relationship. That I can realize that she will fall short, but that I have grace to cover her. That I can see past all the sins, all the nastiness of man, and love her because she is mine. And more importantly, she is God’s.

Motherhood is a journey that, once started, never stops. I have heard it said that even long into a mother’s empty nester years, she still plows down the path of being a mom. Much like marriage, mothering doesn’t stop until death. Even though our society would have us believe it stops much, much sooner.

Recently (ah, heck, let’s be honest, since the get go), I’ve been struggling with finding true joy in mothering. Please don’t get me wrong, I love, love, love Julia with all my heart. She lights up my life in a way no one else ever has. She makes me laugh, she makes me smile, she truly is a delight. But, these delightful times don’t last forever. She doesn’t always laugh, doesn’t always smile. She throws fits, she can be demanding, clingy, cranky, loud, a crybaby, she can change from happy baby to “evil” baby in a matter of seconds (or milliseconds). And it’s in those moments that my joy is fleeting. Those days where all we seem to accomplish is survival, and all I can do is keep from throwing myself on the floor and crying right next to her.

Julia has never been a quite, content baby/toddler. Literally within the first week she started crying, and it seems like it has never really stopped. We may go weeks with sunshine, followed by weeks of gray clouds and rain. Currently, we are in a gray clouds and rain period. It all started about 3 weeks ago. Julia started “losing it” one afternoon. Every mama trick I’ve learned didn’t seem to do me a lick of good. I prayed for the clock to speed up so Jonathan could come home. The next day seemed pretty much the same, followed by a day of constant crying (no joke, she woke up crying and cried all day until church started, BEAUTIFUL!). If you’ve ever been around a crybaby, you’ll know that it is stressful. Every one is on edge, every one is ready to jump out the window and go running down the street screaming. When this goes on for weeks, the stress just keeps building.

It’s no accident that one of the fruits of the Spirit is JOY and not happiness. Joy is long standing. Joy is knowing that when the day is done, you really do want to do it all over again. Happiness is the feeling I get when I eat at Cold Stone. It’s fleeting. Once that Love It size mint ice cream with multicolored sprinkles is gone, so is my happiness about the ice cream. 

So how do we find joy?

Through prayer. 

Every day I wake up between 5:15 and 5:30. I use this time to read my bible, journal and prepare myself for the day. About half the time I actually get “alone time”, while the other half Julia decides to wake up early. I can get easily frustrated when the latter happens, but I brace myself with prayer. Nothing long and drawn out, usually just a few mumbled words spoken between coffee, tantrums and Curious George. But they are always sincere. “God be with me today”, “God allow me to see your grace and to show your grace”, “Thank you for my life”, “Thank you for your mercy”, “Give me a heart to love my daughter”, “Direct my mothering”. 

I wish I could say that prayer fixes all the issues. That once I pray, magically Julia’s attitude is better, that we frolic in green fields and she takes 2 hour naps. But it rarely happens. Usually the situation stays the same. She keeps crying, keeps not napping, and life continues as though my words were useless. Yet, I know they weren’t. Slowly inside my spirit God changes me. He reminds me of His goodness, His grace, His love. He reminds me that joy isn’t an mint ice cream feeling, but a long abiding, self sacrificing attitude. He keeps showing me why I do what I do, why I must stay on His path, and that eventually there will be a reward.