Updated: Apr 25
I still don’t know what day it is. The days are getting warmer, so I know we are ticking right along. I’m not even a robe person, but it has suddenly become my morning, mid-day, and evening wear. Bras are basically the bane of my existence. My hair this morning was possibly the most greasy it has ever been. A quick check in the mirror told me that today, indeed, real shampoo could no longer be avoided. My eyes burn, the pressure behind them constant, and I know that even my forever dependable coffee will be working overtime today to take that fog away.
I am tired. My kids are balls of energy needing to move and scream and wiggle and run and my mid-30s self is tired of waking up with the birds to a never ending, forever growing to do list.
Yesterday, I talked to multiple moms of young children-all from different circles- who each said the exact same thing.
“I am exhausted.”
“It’s too much.”
“I feel guilty because I’m not able to be a good mom with so much on my plate. My job...homeschool...the house…”
And as I heard from multiple different mommas all relaying the exact same sentiment, it just sat heavy on me. I think we all need to hear that we all feel the same. That we are all feeling the weight of this thing, and each and every one of us are finding these days challenging. That we all have so much on us right now that it’s flat out exhausting. That we all feel under-acknowledged and just want to go get a dang haircut.
When they write about what happened during this global pandemic, they will certainly write about Trump. They will write about China, the importance of a novel virus, and an economic collapse. They will write about the absolute doggedness and bravery of healthcare workers (P.S. I already knew that before all of this- insert wink), but I’m pretty sure what they won’t write about will be the brave, tired, strong mommas whose many, many roles they play every day just got added to and amplified 1,000 fold. They won’t write about how millions of moms around the globe got 12 new things every hour dumped on them and had to go into survival mode-literally- just to provide groceries. They won’t acknowledge how they spent countless hours becoming teachers to ensure their kids aren’t behind academically when they return to school in the fall. How they continued to perform in their careers to pre-quarantine levels and beyond to keep getting that paycheck in order to provide for said kiddos. How they tried to find the right non-scary, factual words multiple times over in order to explain to their young one’s mind that the world is a very different place right now and has disrupted everything, including their ability to see family and friends. How these strong mommas continued over and over to love on their little ones in the midst of hearing their name 50,000 times in the last hour, through making it through their little one’s meltdowns because they too have been thrown for a loop and miss people and activities. How they cooked, cleaned, potty trained, washed, dried, bathed, read books, zoomed x 12,000, worked, made beds, took bike rides, stayed up past kids to either get stuff done or enjoy 20 minutes of being alone, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat. Zoom. Repeat.
And Momma, can I tell you something? You are doing a wonderful job. Let me repeat that. You. Are. Doing. A. Wonderful. Job. Yes, this is hard. Yes, this is more than we ever saw coming. Yes, there are frustrations. Yes, you are so, so tired. Yes, you feel guilty for not wearing any of the 30 hats you have been asked to wear very well. But, the thing about this guilt is that it isn’t from God.
The guilt of not being enough. The guilt of not being able to give them enough time because you are working, cooking, cleaning, maintaining their very world, is exhausting within itself. The guilt hat just needs to be burned. Because God is here. He is there. Let me go Dr. Seuss on you. He is everywhere. He is in the kitchen when you do not have it in you to cook one more stinking meal, and so chicken nuggets become the entree yet again. He is standing next to you as you stare down at that blasted couch full of laundry, every part of you wanting to ignore it. He is with you when you open your eyes to the sound of little feet pounding through the house before the sun rises, and your very bones protest the rising. He sits beside you as you lean over the bathtub scrubbing little dirt covered heads clean. His hand is on your shoulder as you sit and review sight words again and again. He might even be dancing in the background of your Zoom.
He is gentle on the breeze and His whisper is forever present. Quiet your worries, and you will find Him. With Him, you got this. He will never leave you; He will never forsake you. Even in this. You are His daughter, and you are enough. And the beautiful thing is if we let Him in, He’s going to have us walking out of this quarantine stronger than ever. What we thought we weren’t capable of, well, He has shown us that we are.
Isaiah 40:11 is one of the most precious verses in the whole Bible to me. It says “He takes care of his flock like a shepherd. He gathers the lambs in his arms. He carries them close to His heart. He gently leads those that have little ones.” And that right there is enough to tell me He sees you, momma. And He is gently leading you. And if the God of the Universe tells us that He is gentle with those that have young, then why are we so harsh on ourselves? He has you close to His heart. He has your little ones close to His heart. He is gentle and loving, yet strong enough to carry you through the tiredness and stress. He sees you, momma, and He loves you. Keep up the good work, ladies.