“I can handle one kid being a handful, or even two kids. I can even handle three of them. But sometimes . . . ” Luke sighed, shook his head, lowered his voice a little before finishing his confession. “Sometimes, the fourth one misbehaving just pushes me over the edge. It can make you feel like you’re going crazy.”
We were huddled up on the couch for our nightly parent pow-wow and prayer time, and I had just confessed a small sampling of the many times I’d utterly lost my cool that day. Luke’s offering of solidarity helped me feel slightly less ashamed of my own parenting mishaps from the day, but no amount of “I get it”s and “me too”s could erase my mistakes or keep me from snapping at my kids (or bursting into tears, or uttering ridiculous threats, or ______ [fill in any other number of poor parenting choices here]) again the very next day.
The truth is that managing four kids and their various needs and moods—not to mention my OWN needs and moods, plus the weight of the world that I insist on single-handedly carrying on my own two shoulders—is a lot. Some days I can keep up with the chaos, and other days I feel like Lucy and Ethel inhaling chocolates from a conveyor belt: the job gets done, but not quite the way I had in mind.
A fun (not so fun?) fact about me is that I am terrible at asking for or receiving help. I was the student who took on every group project for myself, giving my peers a free ride while I earned an A-grade on their behalf. As an adult, the thought of hiring a nanny or babysitter or cleaning service gives me hives. Despite having coordinated meal trains for all of my postpartum friends, I turned down every offered meal when my own babies were born. Only recently have I begun accepting offers of help from my own husband; I’m still working on actually ASKING him for help when I need it. It’s not necessarily something to be proud of, but there’s no denying it: I love to captain my own ship; applications for the position of co-captain are not being accepted at this time. Unless that co-captain is God Himself . . . .
A friend recently opened up about a number of challenging circumstances she was experiencing with her family and in her job. After listing off her many difficulties, she brushed a tear from her cheek and, with a small chuckle of relief, exclaimed “but at least we know God won’t give us more than we can handle!”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s true,” I countered. “He absolutely gives us more than we can handle. How else would we know that WE can’t handle it all without HIS help?”
I stand by what I said to my friend, not just because I’ve experienced it for myself, but because it’s backed by Scripture. In defiance of the many cross-stitched pillows and motivational posters that assure us God won’t give us more than we can handle, that saying never appears in the Bible. In fact, we see just the opposite. Countless Biblical figures were given far more to manage than they could handle on their own. Job lost his family, his livelihood, and his health. Joseph was subjected to sibling torture, slavery, false accusations, and imprisonment. Paul faced beatings, stoning, shipwrecks, and undeserved disparagement from fellow believers. Each of these men was faithful to God and to his calling, yet God allowed their lives to be marked by relentless hardship. And we are told that we, too, will face great trials: Jesus himself warned His followers, “in this world you will have trouble” (John 16:33).
Clearly, a relationship with God is not an assurance of an easy life or manageable circumstances. What God DOES promise is that He will be with us in the hardship. Even when life feels at its most unmanageable, we are not alone. “Fear not, for I am with you,” we read in Isaiah 41:10. “Be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Talk about a promise I’d love to hang onto!
God also promises that He will use our challenges and trials and overwhelming moments to grow our faith and strengthen our character. One of my favorite passages of Scripture is James 1:2-5, in which we see how God uses our pain points for good. It reads, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.”
This parenting road that I am walking feels HARD some days, impossibly so. Yes, it’s marked by joy and love and fulfillment and fun and all the good things. But it’s also exhausting and overwhelming, and the stakes are so very high. I don’t feel up to the task. In fact, I know I’m not up to the task. And recognizing that fact allows me to set aside my pride, letting go of all notions that “I’ve got it taken care of” as I turn, instead, to God for His daily guidance, wisdom, and strength. Each toddler tantrum is an opportunity to pray for patience. Each sibling squabble is a reminder to pause and seek wisdom in how to manage the rift. Every broken toy and glass of spilled milk and crayon scribble across the wall forces me to set aside any delusions that perfection can be found on this earth, reigniting my hope for eternity when all broken things will be made new.
The day-to-day trials of parenthood have grown me in ways I never thought possible. I see how God has used the rigors of motherhood to produce fruit in my life and to shape me more into His image each day. He’s given me so much more than I can handle, and in that gift He’s prompted me to come to Him so that we can navigate the chaos TOGETHER—because alone I am helpless and hopeless, but WITH Him, I can do all that He has asked of me.
